Arthur's Phases
by Smrtypantz
Summary: You couldn’t describe Arthur Kirkland with just one word, mainly because there were just too many things that he was. A drabble fic about all of Arthur's different personalities in Alfred's POV Ch. 13 Sick England
1. Mr Serious Business

**A/N**: Well, this is going to be my first attempt at a drabble fic :) I plan to write a chapter a day all about Arthur's different personalities. Hopefully, this will help me improve on my characterization.

And, of course, a big thanks to my friend Crimson-obsidian-rose, who critiques my works, who is extremely awesome, and who has many great fics of her own~

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Chapter One: **Mr. Serious Business**

You couldn't describe Arthur Kirkland with just one word, mainly because there were just too many things that he was. Spend enough time with the man and you would only bear witness to a tiny glimpse of his character. Or perhaps _characters_ is a better word.

Maybe England had just been around too long. Maybe he had too many influences. Maybe he had too much to drink at moments. No matter what the cause, all these reasons explained why it was so hard for poor Alfred to come up with the right word to describe the man sipping tea and reporting important statistics to his boss regarding nuclear weapons tests in North Korea.

Well, at least Arthur was being predictable. You would think that with all those differing personalities located within one man that it would be hard to guess his next move. But Alfred could read the guy like a book. Now, summarizing said book was a different story.

However, Alfred (due to his genius brain) had found a way to categorize all of England's personalities with flawless accuracy. Once you've been around Arthur for so long, it almost became a necessity. And today, Alfred realized, he was witnessing Personality 1: Mr. Serious Business.

Mr. Serious Business was exactly what his named implied. Today, Arthur was all calculating and the epitome of "properness", the only word America could think of at the moment. This personality appeared most frequently during important gatherings, compromising situations, or whenever Germany was around (probably because Germany was the only one who had a Mr. Serious Business personality to match). The symptoms of Mr. Serious Business included grouchiness, uptightness, glaring at the improper behavior of others (or maybe just Alfred), stubbornness, politeness toward those who deserved respect, a need to cooperate with important decision making, and having an overall stick up the butt.

Alfred had no personal preference to Mr. Serious Business, other than the fact that he was seriously _dull_. He wouldn't even yell at America to save face in front of his boss. It was like he thought himself up on a higher level than the rest of the world…which was normal, but today it was especially prominent.

Alfred looked at the scene before him. His own boss was there too. Apparently, North Korea had been launching long range missiles and testing nuclear bombs recently. Both bosses were discussing this important matter with little input from Alfred. Honestly, he wasn't even paying attention. He was too busy staring at Mr. Serious Business to care for all these boring statistics. Why couldn't they just build a giant hero to take care of North Korea and be done with it?

Arthur felt someone staring at him and turned around to see none other than his former colony gazing at him with a bored, far-off expression on his face. England allowed himself to give a small scowl before turning back to the conversation at hand. He wouldn't reprimand Alfred now. That was improper behavior for the meeting before him. Later, perhaps, when he and Alfred were alone…. Arthur's face exposed a tiny smirk. He couldn't wait to see Alfred's face when he told his former colony that he caught him staring…

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**A/N**: I hope you enjoyed this first installment! Critiques are greatly appreciated :)

Up next: Personality 2: Chef England


	2. Chef England

**A/N**: As I promised, daily installments. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews!! I tried to spice up this chapter with a little humor, so enjoy :)

Oh, and the numbers next to certain words have their definitions at the bottom of the page...you'll see :)

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Chapter Two: **Chef England**

America couldn't understand why he visited this nation's home so often. There must be a deep, underlying masochist in him, or maybe he was just plain stupid (nah, that couldn't be it). Alfred was currently wondering why he was sitting here in England's dining room of all places, awaiting imminent doom. He lifted his nose into the air and took a whiff of whatever dreadful cooking was currently wafting from the kitchen where England was currently trying to "perfect" his newest dish. Well, perhaps the dish _wasn't_ new. It was probably some old English recipe that he was trying to actually make delicious…if such a thing were possible.

Earlier that day, Arthur had called Alfred saying he wanted his opinion on a certain matter. This immediately caused a "Red Alert" sign to flash through the young nation's head. There was only one possible explanation for Arthur inviting America over. Personality 2, labeled Chef England, had arrived.

Chef England was a dangerous creature. It meant that Arthur was in a cooking mood and looking to prove others wrong about English cuisine. The symptoms of Chef England included a need to impress, an overall happy demeanor, and later digestive problems for his taste testers (or perhaps a better word was _victims_). Alfred couldn't stand this personality. It definitely ranked in the bottom three. He was currently considering sneaking away with his ninja-like skills that came with being a hero, but before he could even lift himself from his seat, a sing-song voice called out, "Oh, Alfred~".

Damn. He was trapped.

"Yeah, Arthur?" America called out, praying that perhaps England had just accidently dropped everything he made and needed a hero to help assist him with cleaning his polished floor.

"I've got some dishes I know you'll just love~" England answered back. He was starting to sound a lot like Italy today…his voice was filled with a bubbly happiness that Alfred hadn't heard in a long time. Too bad this innocent voice was coming from a man bent on torture.

England appeared from the kitchen door with several small dishes on a plate. He set the plate down on the table and lifted a hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He had been working very hard on this meal, that was for sure. The hero in America just couldn't run away when someone needed him so…

"L-looks delicious, Arthur," America said, trying to hold down his breakfast at the smell of the food. Seriously, this stuff should be censored.

"Why thank you, Alfred. Please, I'd like you to taste the bangers(1) first," he said with a small smile as he sat down across from Alfred.

Alfred, however, was looking at England like he was from another planet. "Bangers?" he said with a confused look.

"Yes, bangers, you know, sausage. I know the variety of food here is mixed, but I have a feeling in my gut that I've finally perfected these dishes!" Arthur said, bringing his fist into the palm of his other hand.

Alfred just looked at the sausages before him. He remembered something that France had said about English sausages earlier…_not only do they create a BANG in the cooking process, but there's also a pretty big BANG for the person who eats them…_ Oh yeah, that's what he said.

Slowly and carefully, Alfred picked up a sausage with his fork and took a small nibble of the banger. Chewing and finally swallowing, Alfred awaited the BANG to hit him square on.

Arthur looked at Alfred expectantly. "Well…?" he asked. Alfred looked at his former mother country, those eyes that were so happy, and yet so exhausted…

"Yeah, this is great Arthur! Seriously! Damn, I wish McDonald's had these!" he shouted with the perfect expression of pure glee. His smile was forced and one side of the mouth was twitching slightly.

"R-really, Alfred?! Alright, how about this dish then?" Arthur was just about to point to what he wanted Alfred to try next, but the younger nation stopped him.

"Um, Arthur, do you have anything to drink?" America asked, desperate for anything to take away the horrible taste in his mouth.

"I have earl grey tea(2), Alfred. Same as always." Arthur responded. But honestly, why would anyone want to wash down the delicious flavor of his bangers?

"Yeah, fine, tea, sure!" Alfred cried out while simultaneously running to the kitchen. Arthur sat there, dumbfounded. Alfred _never_ drank his tea. He looked down at his meals with a sour face…so were the dishes really that bad?

America walked back into dining room and sat down with a lukewarm cup of earl grey tea in his hands. Honestly, there was no way he could wait for the water to boil. "So, Arthur, what's next?" he asked, trying his best to look happy. However, he noticed a crestfallen expression on England's face. Was he really being that obvious about not liking the dish?

"Um, you know Alfred, you don't _have_ to try these foods if you don't want to…" he began softly with a sad smile on his face.

"What are you on about now, Arthur? If I didn't want to try the food, would I _be_ here right now?" Alfred said, wanting to cheer the nation up. Arthur looked up at America and began, "But…"

"But nothing!" America said. "Look, old man, I've been eating your food for _years_. The stuff's grown on me, so give me some more!"

England brightened at the prospect and said, "A-alright! Well, I have some mushy peas(3) over here next to the Sunday roast(4), and some wonderful spotted dick(5)-"

"Excuse me?" America said. He wasn't sure if he heard that last dish's named correctly.

"I said mushy peas, Sunday roast, and spotted dick, Alfred. Pay attention, will you?"

"I-I know what you said, but…what the heck is spotted dick?!" Alfred shouted. Honestly, Alfred has had everything from England's meat pies to his fish & chips, but _never_ had he heard of anything called spotted _dick_!

Arthur watched the shocked face of his former colony and felt very confused. "Well, it's a suet pudding, you know, a pudding made from hard fat. It has some dried fruit and is placed in custard with brown sugar…" England's voice became quieter as America's eyes grew wider. "I thought I'd given this to you before, America. Perhaps I gave it to you under a different title. It's also known as Spotted Richard, Dick in a box, Dick with a dot, Creamy Brown Dick-"

"Whoa! England! No, too much information!" America shouted while covering his ears. Honestly! Creamy Brown Dick? What the hell?! "Why do you call it that?!"

"Well, it beats me, Alfred. I believe the word "spotted" is used to describe the dried fruit-"

"No!" America yelled, waving his hands before him. In a whisper, he cupped the hands around his mouth and said "The _other_ word."

"You mean dick? I believe that word is derived from the Germany word for "thick" because of the dish's texture… either that, or it's a shortened version of "pudding". Why do you ask?"

America just stared unwaveringly at Arthur. England, on the other hand, was trying to figure out what was wrong with the other nation. Alfred sighed internally…he truly hated it when Chef England made his appearance.

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1. Bangers- basically, these are English sausages made from fresh meats. After WWII, the sausages tended to contain low-quality meat. The name stems from the fact that excessive water was added to the mix, which turned to steam while cooking. It would burst the case with a BANG! xD

2. Earl Grey Tea- this is basically black tea. The flavor (or should I spell it flavour since this is about England?) and aroma stem from the oil extracted from the rind of the bergamot orange. The English tend to add milk and sugar to this tea.

3. Mushy peas- dried marrowfat peas that are soaked overnight and then simmered with a little sugar and salt until it forms a thick, green, lumpy soup.

4. Sunday roast- a traditional British meal consisting of roasted meat with roasted potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. It can come served with vegetables and gravy.

5. Spotted Dick- exactly how England described it. I'm serious, this is a real dish. It's a dessert made with meat pudding that contains dried fruit on custard with some brown sugar.

All the information regarding the food items was found on Wikipedia, which means that everything _could_ be a lie…but it's best to pretend it's not. xD I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter! :)

Up Next: Nostalgic Old Man


	3. Nostalgic Old Man

**A/N**: Third installment, yay! Once again, thank you for all your kind reviews, favorites, and alerts! I'll try my hardest to reply to reviews as quickly as possible :) You all make me so happy -blush- The next chapter might take one or two days to come out, sorry :[

As always, a big thanks to my friend crimson-obsidian-rose for looking over my work once again! :) (check out her stories on Egypt, guys ^^)

**Disclaimer**: I forgot to put one in my first chapter, so I'll do it now. No, I do not own Hetalia...in reality... A girl can dream, right?

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Chapter 3: **Old Nostalgic Man**

America had gone to the bathroom for the third time that day. He was still in England's house after being invited over to try more of Arthur's famous cooking, and his stomach wasn't handling it very well. But that was ok, because it gave Alfred time to wander around England's house, which he hardly got the opportunity to do anymore.

Yet, the same old stuff was everywhere. In the basement, Alfred found cases upon cases of earl grey tea. His stomach did a flip and he trudged back upstairs to the first floor. He really missed his coffee right about now… In the den, he managed to find a lot of old books scattered about. One was just a regular Bible, but it was in a foreign language. _I didn't know England spoke Latin…_ America thought to himself as he placed the Bible back down on the table.

Climbing more stairs, America found himself in front what appeared to be just a simple door. However, upon opening said door, he was suddenly surrounded by paintings literally covering every inch of a long hallway. Alfred had to admit it…he was impressed. It was like taking a walk through all of England's history. The wall to his right didn't even have all paintings. Instead, there were Sex Pistols posters. America found himself laughing at the thought of uptight England rocking out to punk music of all things…

"America! Where the bloody hell are you?" he heard England shout. Well, might as well not let the old man worry too much…

"I'm up here, Arthur!" America shouted towards the door he heard England's voice come from.

"There you are! I was looking everywhere for you! I know I said I'd be at the market, but I was only restocking on tea. You didn't have my permission to-"

"Restocking? England, you've got a billion cases of the stuff in your basement. Or do you just drink all that tea on a daily basis?" America asked with a smile.

"Hmph," was all England could respond with. "How did you find your way here, anyway? I haven't been in this hall since the 80s…"

America looked back at Arthur and knew what was happening. Personality 3, Nostalgic Old Man, was making his appearance. Nostalgic Old Man could be liked or disliked depending on the situation. The symptoms included severe reminiscing, a faraway look in his eyes, a need for story-telling, and sometimes tears being shed. Hopefully, America wouldn't have to witness the final symptom. With any luck, England would dwell on the good memories rather than the bad. He just hoped England didn't have a surprise bayonet from the American Revolution lying about…

"So, England, what is this room? Just a bunch of paintings from the good old days?" America asked with a smile.

"I suppose you can call it that," England answered.

"By the way, I found a Latin Bible lying around in your den…you must be really old since I never knew you spoke _Latin_ of all things…"

"First of all, _no_, I did not and do not speak Latin! That Bible is most likely from my Roman Catholic days before the Protestant Reformation, where your people's first main religion stems from…And secondly! …well, I'm actually quite surprised you recognized that it was Latin…"

America just laughed at the last statement and continued looking around. "So, Iggy, what's this?" America asked, pointing to a painting of a woman decked with jewels.

"I thought I told you not to call me that! And, oh, that is Queen Elizabeth I. God bless her soul…she never married, you know. Quite unusual in those days…" England began with a small smile while staring at the painting, a hand cupping his chin. _Off to a good start so far_…America thought to himself.

"But wait, I thought Queen Elizabeth was that old lady that I always see on the news-"

"How dare you mock her! She is _not_ an old lady! That is Queen Elizabeth II and you will do well to remember it!" England shouted at Alfred while simultaneous shaking his fist. America closed his eyes and smiled at Arthur's reaction.

"Ok, ok, sorry, right, God save the Queen and all that junk…" America said while moving his hands in front of him to block any impending blows England might give him. "A-anyway, what about that painting?" America said while pointing to another piece of art. "Some freaky skeleton phase you went through?"

Indeed, the painting was of skeletons dancing about in a circle. It could almost be considered extremely frightening,_ if_ America was ever scared, that is. Alfred took a glance at his mother country only to find out he'd picked the wrong painting…

"That…that is a painting of death. Quite frequent during those times…" England began softly. His eyes were downcast and his hands were clasped behind him. He looked extremely nervous. Before America could decide to move to another painting, England spoke once more.

"It was the Black Plague. It hit me pretty hard…I lost so many people…" His eyes were becoming more and more distant. "About a third of Europe's people died because of it…nearly _half_ of my people were killed by the plague…it was the worst biological epidemic in all of history…" England's voice was barely a whisper now, and all America could do was just stand there and listen to what Arthur had to say. You couldn't break England out of his reminiscing, no matter how hard you tried.

When it appeared England wouldn't be speaking about it anymore, America began, "Well, look at the bright side! We have medicine, and way better doctors than back then-"

"You have no idea America," England said between gritted teeth. "You have no idea what it's like…to lose so many people…" he began, placing his hands by his sides now. "Losing _your_ people…an entire chunk of innocent lives…you feel yourself as a nation fading along with them…" England was trembling now. The final symptom was so close to happening…

"Listen, England, I-"

"And you! You concern yourself with the most ridiculous diseases in the world!" England started shouting at Alfred, turning to face him head on. "This bloody swine flu? Nothing! Absolutely nothing compared to the death I faced back then! How many people died in your country?! Three?? Try three bloody million for me, America!" He was _seething_. America had no idea what to say or do or _anything_. England was pointing at him now, and a stray tear fell down his check.

America was at a complete loss now, staring at England who was breathing heavily. It probably wasn't good for Arthur to get so emotional like this…he _was_ an old man, who had seen a lot in his day. But what could Alfred do? Alfred scattered his brain for anything that could cheer England up until he came upon a memory of his own. When England had been crying after having nothing to offer America when he was a young nation…So, Alfred decided to do what he did back then.

He gave England a hug.

Alfred felt the expected tears on his shoulder as England slowly, but carefully, gave into the embrace. "Listen, Iggy…" America began as he pulled slightly away. "Don't worry so much about the past! You just…you just have to look toward the future! That's why I'm so awesome!" he said while smiling and pointing a thumb at his chest.

England just chuckled at the younger, more naïve nation while wiping away the stray tears that had fallen down his face. "Yeah, the future, right…"

America continued to look at England just to make sure he was ok. Arthur was facing the opposite direction now, down the length of the hallway. "You know America…" he began, "sometimes I just feel like such an old man…I've been around longer than any one person should…"

"Aw, Iggy, don't be like that. I like old! You wouldn't be the Arthur I know and love if you weren't positively ancient!" England just glared at that last statement.

"You know America, I'm not _that_ old. Just because _you've_ been around for only four centuries at the _most_ doesn't make every other nation you meet old! I mean, honestly, you thick-headed twit! Don't you realize that-" And England continued to rant at Alfred while the younger nation continued to laugh at his favorite old geezer. Good old England…

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**A/N**: I don't know much about England's history, but while I was researching, the Black Plague just popped into my head! It was perfect, ne? :)

Up next: Punk England, to counterbalance England's old man side ^^


	4. Punk England, Part 1

**A/N:** Oh, thank you all so much for your reviews, you guys! I love you all :) This chapter is going to be a little different. I noticed a lot of you were excited about Punk!England, and I really wanted to get his personality down perfectly. I've done tons of research and I've even written an outline for it. **However, I'm going to have to separate Punk!England into three parts **(that was in bold in case someone decided not to read the author's comments ^^;) I don't want to disappoint, so hopefully what I've written so far is up to par :)

Once again, I promote my lovely friend crimson-obsidian-rose, who reads and checks my work~

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Chapter Four: **Punk England, Part 1**

He was twitchy.

That was the only explanation for England's behavior today at the World Summit meeting. Alfred was, once again, bored out of his mind. His ideas hadn't boded very well with the other nations. Apparently, a space station with a McDonald's wasn't a good idea. These nations honestly didn't know what they were talking about. However, his little idea had sparked something much greater during the meeting that day. And, it was this incident that was causing America to stare at the twitching man before him.

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_Earlier that day…_

"…and that concludes my presentation! If you have any questions, don't bother asking them, they're not important!" America shouted at the group of nations before him. He was positively beaming at his newest (and by far, the greatest) idea he had ever had. America took a look around the table to see everyone's reactions. He started with Germany, who had a very unusual, mixed expression of boredom and heated fury. Italy, however, looked like truly enjoyed Alfred's presentation. He even added the most awesome idea of adding pasta to the menu! However, Italy's head immediately collapsed onto the table. _Must be siesta time…_ Alfred thought.

As America looked around, Arthur was practically _seething_. His fists were clenched tightly on the table and he was looking straight down. He thought he was going to burst. _Alfred better not say anything…_

"Hey, England, you like my idea, right?" Alfred naïvely asked. In the same innocent ramble, he continued, "I know you love Big Macs, probably why your butt's so big, but don't you think our astronauts want some real food once in a while? Instead of that instant powder stuff?" America said with that same, excited voice of his. The young nation looked at the man before him. England put his hands to his mouth like he was about to be sick. His fists were clamping onto his face quite hard, and he looked like he was struggling. Just what was wrong with England today? "Hey, England, you ok?" Alfred asked, marks of concern covering his face.

And suddenly, England burst.

"You bloody twit!" he began, his eyes practically on fire. "Do you want to commercialize everything?! Let me tell you what! You and your damn NASA are just promoting your artery-clogging food to the masses!" England pushed his chair away and stood up, pointing at Alfred now, screaming and scaring the shocked audience who were forced to watch this sudden rampage. "You honestly think if McDonald's is in space, it'll somehow promote it?! Well, I'll have you know I'll _boycott_ that bloody restaurant! That's right! Because it's all just a part of your _scheme_." Now, England was beginning to whisper and looking at the nations before him with wild eyes, like he knew something top secret and was sharing it with them all. "His scheme! To take good consumers' money and give them radioactive poison in return!" With his face towards the sky and pointing his finger in the air, he looked quite like America when in his hero stance. "That food is addictive! America's corrupt government sees to it! Soon, all of America and the rest of the world will be eating it! The mind-controlling special sauce won't get me, you hear??" He shouted while shaking his fist at the sky, or to the space station, or maybe even just the ceiling.

Silence befell the room.

England was breathing heavily now, and his face was still facing the roof of the building. However, his expression was faltering. Arthur knew what he had just done, and couldn't believe he let it slip out so easily…

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_The present…_

And so, Alfred continued to stare at the twitchy man at the table. Arthur had awkwardly climbed back into his seat after his outburst, and the meeting resumed with a severe awkwardness spread throughout the air.

America was extremely frustrated. He just couldn't figure out which personality England was today. Perhaps Alfred would have to put this weird phase of twitching and outbursts as a whole _new_ personality. Maybe he should call it Crazy…or Lunatic… or Delirious Fruitcake…The symptoms would include twitchiness, bizarre outbursts, and a hatred for delicious food, apparently.

Germany banged his fist on the table, trying to gain the attention of Alfred, who was staring off into space (actually _thinking_) at the moment. Ludwig could never be patient when it came to that man. He coughed into his hand, fully ready to resume his lecture on high-quality, fuel efficient vehicles, when he noticed England looking away as well.

Arthur was currently giving France hate stares, which was normal, but something was just _off_ about his appearance. Sure, he still had his infamous sweater vest and tie, but his arm was draped over the top of his chair and his face…well, his face had a look of utter boredom. Utter boredom with something else…was that defiance?

"England!" Germany shouted at the man. He honestly didn't care who he ever yelled at, even if it was normally uptight, well-behaved England. "Pay attention, will you!"

Arthur just turned his head around to stare coldly into the German's eyes. His own eyes narrowed at the man, and Germany felt himself falter on the spot where he stood. "Listen you _git…_" he began. Was…was this going to be another outburst? "I don't have to listen to your _damn_ authority, you hear?! I can do whatever the bloody hell I want during these meetings, so suck it up!" He was pointing again, but this time it was directed at Germany himself.

Ludwig just looked on with pure shock. England…defiant? _Rebellious_? Those words just didn't seem to belong in the same sentence in the German's mind.

This time, England looked like he didn't care about what he had just said. He was too busy staring at France again, practically snickering in his direction…like he was thinking of ways to torture the Frenchman…which he probably was.

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The meeting had ended soon after England's second outburst. Although there were still lectures to be had, everyone thought it best they get their turns during the next meeting. Also, the next meeting wouldn't be held in England. France's place sure sounded nice right about now.

The Englishman himself, however, had more troubling thoughts on his mind. He had arrived back home in an almost trance-like state. He was currently unlocking a special door located within his room. Slowly, but carefully, it revealed a wardrobe unlike any other Arthur owned.

He got out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and put them on. The jeans were tighter than he remembered, but these low-riders fit him well in all the right places. The t-shirt had The Clash written on the front. England placed a pair of combat boots on his feet and fingerless gloves and bracelets on his hands and wrists. He got out an old vest, but it was extremely different from the others. It was a leather jacket without sleeves and the British flag was located on the back. Lastly, he got out a can of red hair dye and walked towards the mirror attached to the dresser on the other side of the room.

He hastily sprayed the tips of his hair with the red dye and dropped the can to the floor. With a tissue, he began to carefully wipe off the skin colored make-up on his face, revealing piercing holes in a variety of places. His ears, his eyebrows, and even his _lips_ had a piercing. He carefully placed all the correct piercings in the right holes and took a look at himself in the mirror. Taking in a big breath, he walked towards the locked case hidden within his secret closet of strange attire.

It was a guitar case, and damn it, he was ready to _rock_.

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**A/N:** I truly hope you all enjoyed the first installment of Punk!England. Any sort of feedback would be greatly appreciated :)

Update: Punk!England, Part 2. I'll give you guys a little spoiler. This chapter was about Punk!England of today, but part 2 will show how England became a punk rocker in the first place :)

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	5. Punk England, Part 2

**A/N:** I just can't believe how many reviews and alerts this story has gotten so far...all I can really say is THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! I'm so glad you're all enjoying my story as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

This is Part 2 of Punk England, where we'll discover the origins of his personality. I had a little difficulty with this chapter. I'm not sure if I got the mood down properly, so any advice on my writing would be greatly appreciated :) Also, I did a lot of research about the history, origins, and subculture of punk rock in England, so I hope everything is accurate. I didn't really have a reference to any other Punk England fic, so I was trying to create his personality as best I could through the research I did. I hope everything is up to par ^^;

Well, I hope you all enjoy the latest installment~

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Chapter Five: **Punk England, Part 2**

Punk hadn't been part of England for the longest time. As a matter of fact, it was fairly recent when you considered the fact that Arthur was centuries old. It wasn't even his own fault that punk became a part of him. As a matter of fact, the blame was on _America's_ shoulders.

England clearly remembered his first encounter with the blasted music. He was only visiting Alfred after receiving a death threat from Tony (again) and wanted to ensure that his life was not at risk. As he was sitting in America's living room, he heard screeching outside. He immediately rose from his seat and ran to the window. Someone was in serious danger! He could hear screaming, and apparently there was a crowd of people scared for their lives!

However, when he had tried to tell Alfred about the situation, the young nation just laughed in his face. Apparently, that horrid noise coming from the outdoors was _music_.

England left immediately afterwards.

However, this was not the last time England heard the screeching. Although Arthur had thought nothing of the incident back in America, he hadn't realized the situation brewing in his very own home…

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1975

_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEECH_

"What the bloody hell is that blasted noise you crazy whippersnappers???!!!" England shouted at the top of his lungs as he burst his head through the window of the meeting room to scream at the crowd outside. Today, he was told by his boss to come discuss important matters regarding dropping employment rates for many of his citizens. Significant men and women of all ranks were currently situated in the main conference room of their hotel, only to be disturbed by some ghastly racket coming from the outside. He was embarrassed, he was humiliated, and now he was pretty sure he was deaf. "Why are you all acting like a bunch of punks?!" he shouted while shaking his fist into the air.

The people in the conference room looked about each other, disapproving expressions on all of their faces. Arthur was currently screaming at the crowd of "whippersnappers" to "shut the hell up" and "respect their elders", but there were more pressing matters to discuss. Why they had decided to choose this hotel of all places, they hadn't the slightest clue. Apparently, a new band was performing just a few blocks away. However, the noise seeping from the outside could hardly be called music at all. There was a monkey ramming its fingers across some strings connected to an amp, an elephant knocking itself against a drum set, a woodpecker plucking strings on a bass, and an overactive squirrel trying to prove those who said his voice couldn't reach ten thousand decibels _wrong_…at least, that's what it sounded like.

England slammed the window shut, his face red from his shouting, his anger, and his embarrassment. This was not the right way to start an important meeting. He turned away from the window only to find that his most beloved Queen Elizabeth II had entered the room.

Arthur quickly put on an awkward smile and kneeled towards the woman. His face was burning, and it began to scorch when she asked, "What is all that commotion coming from the outside?" Her Royal Highness looked down upon England and said, "I hope you are not allowing rioting to take place in England's streets."

"No, of course not, Your Highness!" Arthur said quickly while standing up. "We're taking care of it, believe me! J-just as soon as we figure out what _is_ going on, exactly…" He looked to his Queen with eyes practically begging her not to be mad. Honestly, he didn't even know what was happening to his country anymore. This had been just one incident out of many where he had been forced to listen to this screeching. Arthur hadn't the slightest clue as to where it stemmed from in his country, why it was happening, or why it _continued_ to occur.

"Well then, England…" Her Royal Highness began. "I hope you are fully prepared to investigate these chaotic situations."

"O-of course, My Lady!" he responded immediately. And he _meant_ it. He would _personally_ see to it that whoever was making such a huge racket would pay. His dignity depended on it…

And so, later that day, England decided that he would head the investigation himself. No need to get others involved with the dirty work. Normally, Arthur would hire people to do this sort of thing for him. However, he was actually curious as to why his country was in shambles when it came to musical talent. Sure, he had never been as great as Austria during olden times, but why, oh _why_, was his country spewing out screaming and calling that being musically inclined?

Well, the only way to beat them was to join them. Therefore, Arthur put on his best disguise: a pair of sunglasses and a trench coat. But just to play it up a notch, he got out his ultimate weapon: a fake mustache. He was surely the greatest master of disguise the world had ever known.

He purchased a ticket to one of these underground shows. Apparently, the band he was seeing originated and played in London. They were called the Sex Bullets, or the Intercourse Gun, or something of the sort. He looked down on his ticket and read "Sex Pistols". _Sounds like a name France would come up with…_England thought to himself as he walked down the street to get to the show. Upon arrival, the first thing he noticed was the crowd itself.

It was worse than he thought.

No one had naturally colored hair. Everyone had somehow grown green, purple, red, and blue on their scalps! And all they're clothing was either ripped or leather. He could understand liking leather. It was fairly comfortable when in the form of a shoe. But why would people want to wear it _skin tight_? Arthur felt lost and confused as he made his way through the crowd. Was that…someone had a piercing on their eyebrow! And another! And another! England quickly did some quick hand movements to repel the demon crowd from cursing him. It was a good thing he knew magic…

The rampaging mob hadn't even settled before a man came on stage and screamed into the microphone. Now, how could you possibly respond to that? Apparently, by more screaming. The crowd surrounding him screamed and shouted and yelled at the top of their lungs for no clear reason that England could gather. And then, _it_ happened.

The music started playing.

And Arthur could swear he was in either pure _agony_ or pure _ecstasy_. He wasn't sure just yet. All he knew was that the screaming band before him was just completely _wild_. Why, he hadn't seen this kind of unadulterated, chaotic atmosphere since his pirate days! He received vivid flashbacks of times of conquering lands, capturing treasures, and not giving a damn about anyone's authority! He saw himself fighting battles in the perilous ocean, saw himself doing what he wanted _when_ he wanted, saw himself taking care of his ship without any help other than the sweat on his brow and the blood in his veins…

Complete. Total. _Anarchy_.

And he loved every minute of it.

England arrived back home later that night, shut the door behind him and slid down its surface to the floor. He sat there, practically transfixed at what he had just witnessed. His heart was still racing and his eyes were still wild with the excitement that took place during the concert. He felt…energized? Or emptied of all vigor? He couldn't tell…he was confused beyond belief. Arthur hadn't felt that kind of thrill in ages. The concert had put in him a trance, a heated frenzy, a high upon the pillar of life.

But just _what_ was he going to tell his Queen? The ambassadors? The significant men and women who expected better of him? He couldn't just end these concerts. They gave him something he hadn't had in such a long time. He felt _young_ again. There was no way he was giving that up.

* * *

And so, for many months, England pretended by day to be heading an investigation of this new wave called "punk" that had swept up his nation so forcefully. But by night, he would disguise himself (in punk attire, not that silly trench coat getup) and head on over to see bands perform, such as the Sex Pistols, or his favorite, The Clash. He would scream "Anarchy!" like there was no tomorrow, and sang lyrics cursing his corrupt government. He went against all capitalism, all commercialism, and rebelled against powerful corporations. Arthur found himself in these moments hating help from those who thought they had authority over others. He developed a DIY (Do It Yourself) attitude, and rioted against anyone who thought otherwise. In these moments, Arthur was everything his government wasn't. At night, he was an entirely different person.

However, currently it was eight o' clock in the morning, and he was at yet another meeting with more boring men and boring women who only wanted to discuss employment rates. As a matter of fact, punk was stemming from angry teens _rebelling_ against being out of a job. They were jobless, moneyless, and _opinionated_.

But, these significant dignitaries found no reason to listen to the teens of this generation. As far as they were concerned, they were nothing more than rebellious punks who shouldn't be allowed to have a voice.

"England," one of the men said to get Arthur's attention. "Are you going to stand there by the window listening to that racket, or are you actually planning on participating in this meeting?"

Arthur looked over at the rich, bearded man and felt like ripping it off the guy's face. But no…now was not the time. "I'm just concerned," he answered curtly.

"About how your country is going to the dogs, you mean?" the man asked sarcastically.

"No. I'm worried about our youth. If you actually listen, you can hear their despair…" Arthur trailed off as he looked back towards the window again.

"What are you blathering on about now? Of course they should be concerned! They're going to be behind bars if they keep that up! There isn't any reason they can't be _normal_, so I just don't understand-"

"No you don't understand!" England shouted.

The entire room was silent now.

Arthur, in his embarrassment, faltered on the spot. However, the music continued to play, so he decided to boldly continue. "Do you realize what they're singing about? They deviate from the norm because look at us!" he shouted while gesturing to the room. "We're bloody broke! Employment rates are down to lower levels than ever before…these teens don't want that! We _have_ been corrupt! And all they're trying to say is they want it to end!" England looked around the room to see if he had any support. Instead, he found expressions that eyed him with suspicion and mistrust.

Arthur sighed to himself internally. This wasn't something they could understand…not when they were so wrapped up in their own lives and their own riches to realize that there were others who were crying out for help…to help them escape a corrupt government that cared only about making a profit off of its people. That's the only reason for these stupid meetings in the first place. These men and women were losing _money_ with this unemployment.

England wanted nothing more that to shove their faces in a pile of garbage.

And so, Arthur continued to secretly embrace his new side and kept up a façade of righteousness to his superiors. It continued for years to come. He would dress however he wanted, sing however he wanted, and act however he wanted. And for each moment he screamed and rocked out and embraced punk culture, he felt young again.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! I really wanted to emphasize Arthur's feelings towards the music and how it embraces both his forgotten youth and olden vigor of his pirate days. A big thanks to Jackidy for giving me the idea to add in bits of Pirate England to the story :)

Also, on a random side note, whippersnapper is totally my favorite word. ever. xD

Update: Punk England, Final (no, not the final of the story, the final of punk england ^^) maybe you'll get to see someone's reaction to punk england in the next chapter :)


	6. Punk England, Final

**A/N:** You know, I thought about it, and Arthur would need _really_ BIG eyebrow piercings, wouldn't he? xD Thanks so much for all your feedback, I love you guys so much~ Btw, in case you didn't know, Tony is that little alien that lives in Alfred's house who hates England for some reason xD

I've tried to keep these updates daily. I kinda submitted the last chapter at 2 am last night (or around that time) and right now it's about 9:30 pm...does that count as two submissions in a day? xD

There will be some bands mentioned in the story. You don't have to know who they are, but here are their names: Green Day, Sex Pistols, and The Clash (just in case you got confused). Fanfiction. net doesn't allow for lyrics to be written in works, and I've respected that, so don't expect to see lyrics, m'kay?

The idea for this chapter has been in my head for a while, so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :) I would recommend listening to some English punk music to get in the mood, particularly "I Fought the Law" by The Clash, "God Save the Queen" by the Sex Pistols, and especially **"Anarchy in the UK" by the Sex Pistols**. You don't have to, of course, but I did purely to help me write the fic~ (I've never really listened to punk music since I'm more of a metal fan myself, but I have to say it was interesting) ^^

* * *

Chapter Six: **Punk England, Final**

_Now, why would Francis give me a ticket to a Sex Pistols concert…?_ Alfred thought to himself as he walked briskly to some outdoors theater in London, England. Apparently, there was some big, old person concert taking place that day. The only reason America decided to go in the first place was because Green Day was going to be there playing a tribute song to some band called The Clash. But still, why would France be so interested in making him go? The guy practically shoved the ticket in his face, winked at him, and said he even had _extras_ if America lost his…which he did, and he had to go back to France to get another, but that wasn't the point!

Alfred sighed contently to himself as he walked down the street. He recalled his own days of the punk craze. It didn't hit his nation as hard as it hit London, but it did give way to a new era of rock n' roll. The New York Dolls, for one, made him actually buy himself a big, poufy wig just to match their appearance.

His government, however, didn't find the music all that great. They rejected it, saying all the music did was promote something called nihilism…Alfred looked up the word in his dictionary later, only to find out it meant these punk bands believed that all authority was corrupt. America, split between government and his own people, decided he'd just go with the flow. He didn't particularly love the music, and nor did he hate it. Besides, he was a social butterfly. He could fit into any situation you gave him since he _was_ made up of so many cultures.

America knew he had arrived at the correct place, not by sight, but by the continuous screaming he heard just a few yards away. He felt the energy coming from the enormous crowd, and immediately his famous smile was plastered to his face. This was going to be _awesome_!

He gave his ticket to the security guard and ran into the chaotic crowd, pumping his fist in the air and shouting. Alfred could sense the vigor and liveliness of the audience, and it was making him feel so alive! Man, did he love concerts.

Alfred pushed his way to get to the front of the crowd so he could be closer to the stage. It looked like Green Day had already started. They were singing "I Fought the Law" right now, and the crowd was going insane. There were screams coming from every which way, and Alfred felt like his head was going to explode from pure excitement! However, there was one scream in particular that had caught his attention…the voice sounded so familiar…

"Fight the bloody law! Don't let those damn officials win! They're a bunch of bloody gits!"

Was that…no, no it couldn't be…

"Kiss my arse, Green Day, the original Clash was better!"

There was no way…no, all British people sounded alike…

"Kick'em in the arse, Clarice!"

Oh no. Clarice was the name of his imaginary unicorn…that could mean only one thing…

That rampaging fan up front was _Arthur_.

…_what?!_

Alfred stared in total shock as he found Arthur screaming and going completely berserk before him. He was only a few feet away, near the edge of the stage. He was shouting and jumping and cursing and going completely _insane_. And just what was he wearing?! Arthur turned to the side to shout in someone's face, which let Alfred see a multitude of piercings littering his face…since when did he get those?! He was wearing a leather vest and probably the tightest jeans he'd ever seen…

Damn it. He was _hot_.

Alfred just stood there, speechless, and staring and the crazed man in front of him. America should have known…the twitching and random outbursts during the meeting weren't because Arthur was going insane…he was converting to Personality 4: Punk England!

Alfred had only seen this personality once before, and it had only been for a brief moment. Punk England, from what he knew, only came out in secret. It was a rare occurrence and had to be treated with caution. You should never mention corporate business around him, for one (so that's why he didn't like his McDonald's idea…). Also, never, _ever_ say yes to government. Ever. Period. The symptoms of Punk England included shouting, rioting, broken furniture, broken ear drums, broken faces, multiple piercings, weird clothes, a DIY attitude, and a hatred of big business.

America looked at his former mother country and saw a guitar case lying next to him. Did Arthur know how to play?

Before he could give it more thought, Green Day was finished with their tribute song and the real band everyone had been waiting for appeared on the stage. The Sex Pistols.

And damn, did Arthur look like he was _ecstasy_. He was going wild, shouting, and smiling and glaring all at the same time. He pumped his fist into the air and sang out the lyrics with such force that Alfred was surprised such an old guy had all that vigor. As a matter of fact, Arthur didn't look old at all, right now. He looked, if possible, younger than Alfred himself!

America was shocked beyond all belief. This song was about Arthur's _Queen_…every time _he_ said something about the lady Arthur would smack him across the face! But here Arthur was singing about her like he hated the woman! Everything was so confusing…

The song ended and the crowd was in a tumult. Screaming was coming from every direction, and America couldn't help but cup his hands around his mouth and cheer as well. He looked towards Arthur again, and saw the nation picking up his guitar case and clamoring to the stage. What…what was going on?

Arthur, on the other hand, just had the greatest adrenaline rush in ages. He had been looking forward to this moment all week. He received his ticket because of a local radio contest, and part of the deal was that he would get to play on stage with his favorite band of all time.

Alfred watched as Arthur faced the crowd from the stage he was standing on. He took the microphone into his hands and shouted, "What the bloody hell do you want?!"

The crowd just screamed in response. Arthur continued. "How about some _anarchy_?! You want that?!"

The audience shouted "Anarchy!" in total agreement, and Arthur just gave a wide smirk before taking off his vest and flinging it at the crowd. He unlocked his case to reveal a guitar with the British flag's design painted on it.

And then, he began to play.

Arthur was _amazing_. His hands glided across the guitar with expert skill and he sang like there was no tomorrow. Arthur didn't have the _greatest_ singing voice, but apparently when it came to shouting punk music, he was extraordinary! Shouts of "Anarchy!" came from his mouth as he sang, and you could just feel the vigor coursing through his body when he said it. During the solo, Arthur bent his legs and lurched his body towards the sky, playing towards the clouds above them all. He grabbed the mic at one point and rocked it back and forth haphazardly as he sang.

He ended the song on one last, pounding note. The crowd was in a complete frenzy at this point. They were cheering him on and he just let it all soak in. Arthur hadn't experienced a high like that in _ages_. He turned around to high five the hands of the bass player, and all Alfred could see was Arthur's _really_ nice bottom…oh _goodness_…

America was smiling when he decided he'd let Arthur know he was here. He shouted, "Nice ass, England!"

Arthur turned around, still engulfed by the adrenaline that ran through his veins during his performance, and responded, "Your bloody right I've got a nice ass, America!"

And at that moment, the noisy crowd before them became completely silent.

* * *

They shouldn't have shouted their country names. As far as everyone was concerned, they had been normal citizens of England. These people _rejected_ their countries, not embraced them. And so, poor Alfred and Arthur were kicked out of the concert by both security and an angry mob.

Neither man spoke on the way to England's house. Arthur looked like a deer caught in the headlights, while Alfred was awkwardly trying to smile to make things better. The two walked into England's home and went up to his room. Upon entering, Arthur pointed at his bed, a command for Alfred to sit. America obediently complied and sat himself down, looking up at England with wide eyes.

Arthur closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and asked, "What the bloody hell were you doing at that concert?!"

Alfred just gave a clumsy smile in response. He tried to turn the conversation around with a question of his own. "W-well, what were _you_ doing at that concert, England?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "I-I was just doing an undercover investigation of the Sex Pistols! Rumor has it they're trying to overthrow the Queen!" was his brilliant response.

"Uh-huh, sure…you know, this _investigation_ has been going on since the 1970s, Arthur…" America said with a smug smile on his face.

"I-I will have you know that punk music is an important and necessary outlet for emotions! It-it allows people to embrace self-expression, utilize their resources to create music, and-"

Alfred's laughing cut him off. Arthur was now trying to babble on about punk's important cultural influence in society, which just caused America to laugh even more. Arthur faltered, and finally shouted, "And just what the bloody hell is so funny?!"

Alfred wiped away a stray tear that had fallen from his face, stood up, put his arm around Arthur and said, "You." Arthur just looked up at the younger nation with a combined expression of anger and confusion. "Arthur, you have no idea how awesome you are, do you? Look at you!" he said while pointing to England, his other arm still draped around his shoulders. "You may be an old man, but you sure know how to party like a teenager!" Arthur's face reddened as he tried to respond with something considered coherent. When he found he couldn't, he looked down to the ground and muttered a small "thanks".

America removed his arm and smiled at the man. "Arthur, why keep all this a secret?"

England just looked up and answered, "Because it's not proper behavior for a nation. If anyone in my government had any idea what I was doing, my reputation would be on the line."

"But dude!" America exclaimed, "Punk is a big part of you! You can't just ignore it!"

"But it's not part of my government-"

"Because it's a part of your people!" Alfred said. "Listen, my entire nation was built on the idea that the people _were_ the government. Their voices count, and they're a pretty big portion of who you are! Embrace it! I welcome all of my cultures, you know. I can listen to pop music and hardcore metal and like them both, so you should be able to embrace what your people like too!" America ended his dramatic speech by pointing his finger at Arthur's chest.

"I…I suppose you're right, Alfred," England said softly.

"And you know what, Arthur? You should totally dress like that for the next National Summit meeting!"

Arthur just gave a gruff "humph" in response and crossed his arms across his chest.

And about a month later, during the next Summit meeting in France, Arthur did what Alfred said.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you all enjoyed this last installment of Punk!England. This idea was gnawing my head for a while ^^;

I know some of you wanted to see more responses than just Alfred's, but this is a fic centered on England and America. I might write a separate fic about that meeting I ended this chapter with, so look forward to that one day :)

Update: Mother England (Arthur a mom to Alfred…LOL, after that whole punk craze thing, too xD)


	7. Mother England

**A/N**: Hello once again! I've hit more than 50 reviews with this fic, which I thought I'd _never_ do, like, ever o_O –dies- Thank you all so much for making this possible! **And I'm SOO sorry this took a few days to do instead of one, but I've started working in the lab at this medical center b/c of a mentorship for Intel, so updates will be every 2-3 days from now on :/ (sorry)**

***A big, **_**big, **_**BIG thanks to my awesome friend crimson-obsidian-rose, who came up with the plot for this chapter! THANK YOU!!!!!!! Everyone, thank her. Now! xD Read her fics as a thanks :)***

Btw, for this chapter, America has two unusual friends: Tony the alien and his whale from the Hetalia strips. They will be making a small appearance, so I just wanted to tell people who might've not known ^^

Also, India is not included in this fic because, well, there is no Hetalia character for India yet, and I don't want to end up screwing up his/her personality when he/she _does_ come out

Even though we will miss India dearly, I hope you enjoy~

* * *

Chapter Seven: **Mother England**

_April 21__st_

England was nervous. No. Scratch that. He was _terrified_. He jumped at every noise, turned at every small movement someone or something made…he was twitchy, but these twitches weren't the same as before. Arthur's twitches today were different because he was awaiting imminent doom. He sensed it in the air. He could even taste it if he tried. It tasted like hamburgers. It smelled like hamburgers. Heck, if England turned around he would probably _see_ a giant hamburger if he didn't know better (Alfred left his hamburger costume at home).

But why was Arthur Kirkland, former fearsome pirate, so nervous? What was he afraid of? Why, because it was his Queen's birthday, of course! And just guess who the guests of honor were? They would be Australia, Seychelles, Canada, Hong Kong, Sealand, and _America_.

Things could not get any worse, could they?

Just a week before, Arthur had been summoned to his Queen's throne room at her request. He knelt down before the woman and turned his head up questioningly.

"England," she began. "As you know, my birthday is coming up soon. I would appreciate a small dinner party with a few certain guests."

"Of course, My Lady!" Arthur responded at once. "Who would you like me to invite?"

At this, the Queen smiled. "I would like it if you could invite all our former colonies."

"I-I…uh…_what_?" Arthur stuttered, completely baffled. "Y-you don't mean…as in…_who_, exactly?"

"As in Australia, Seychelles, Canada, Hong Kong, India, and America," she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We have shaped who they are, and I would really enjoy seeing them all. Can you do that for me, Arthur?"

England just stared in the warm eyes of his most beloved Queen and couldn't help but say, "Yes…" even though his heart screamed, "No!"

And so, Arthur Kirkland decided it was _his_ responsibility and his alone to see to it that these nations were fit to be in the same room as his Queen.

_Day 1: Invitations_

England had to word each invitation as carefully as possible. He truly needed everyone he asked to show up, so he decided that each card would just have to be personalized. He needn't worry too much about Hong Kong or Canada…those two were pretty calm. However, Seychelles might not want to show up, having more feelings for France than anyone else. India was probably too busy to show up. And then there were Australia and America, two of the wildest children he's ever had the misfortune to raise. He sighed internally. It would be those two he needed to control the most, and he could only hope both wouldn't begin to actually _speak_ to one another…If that were to happen, if they were to somehow _combine_ their wild stupidity…Arthur shuddered at the thought.

_Day 2: Arrivals_

It appeared that everyone with the exception of India would be able to attend Queen Elizabeth's birthday. Arthur was a little disappointed. But, then again, he supposed not _everyone_ was readily at the feet of the Queen of England (Arthur was saddened by the thought).

Arthur checked the clock. It read 7:55 pm. He had put in the invitations an order for the nations to come to his house at 8 o'clock pm so they could live together for the remainder of the week. Why? He needed to prepare them for his Queen, of course!

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

England rushed to his door and looked out through the peephole. He saw a mess of blond hair and blue eyes. _America_…he thought to himself. _Good. At least he's arrived on time_.

Arthur opened the door and quickly began, "Now while you are here, I expect you to behave! No hamburgers, no parties, no scary movies, and especially no aliens! Do you understand?"

"Um, well, can Kumajiro stay…?" the young nation asked England innocently.

Oh. Perhaps this wasn't America after all. "I-I am sorry, Canada, I thought you were someone else…"

"You thought I was America again, right?" Canada asked with a bored expression on his face. He was used to this. England just nervously smiled in response and opened the door to let him in. As he was shutting the door, he heard a yelp.

"Jerk England, don't slam that door in my face!"

Oh no…it couldn't be…

"Sealand?" he asked nervously. Sure enough, Sealand pushed the door wide open and let himself in. Arthur was baffled at seeing Peter Kirkland zoom right into his house. He had made sure _not_ to invite the little brat over! "Canada!" Arthur yelled accusingly in Matthew's direction as he shut the door.

Canada looked innocently at England and asked, "What? He was at my house when I got the invitation, so it was only right to invite him, don't you think, eh?"

Arthur just grunted as a response. Sealand was currently zooming (like an airplane) all around his living room while Canada made himself comfortable on the couch. England was just about to scold Peter for running when he heard another knock at his door.

This time, Hong Kong and Seychelles were standing there, looking completely worn out. "Time zones," was all Hong Kong said as if he knew what England was thinking. Both walked into his home, Seychelles yawning and stretching her arms over her head while doing so.

Arthur was about to shut the door when he heard a voice call out, "G'day, mate!" Looks like Australia was here.

"Yes, yes, come in Australia," England said as he invited yet another guest in. The man pushed his way inside the house and plopped down on the couch with his arms spread out around the back, completely at ease. Canada, however, was looking very uncomfortable now. Arthur took a look outside to make sure no one else was coming. When it appeared no one was, he closed the door.

"Hey old man, don't you have coffee in any of these cupboards?" someone asked from his kitchen.

Wait. Arthur counted the countries in his living room. It amounted to five. Who was in his kitchen?!

Before he could investigate for himself, Alfred popped his head out, looking quite aggravated. "Man, you don't have coffee _anywhere_? All I see around this place is tea!"

England wasn't sure what to say at this point. Respond to America's coffee question like nothing happened? Yell at him for sneaking in? Demand _how_ Alfred had snuck into his house in the first place?

He decided to go with that last thought. "How did you get in my house?!" he sreamed.

"Huh? Oh, Tony beamed me in. By the way, he wants to know if we can watch a few scary movies later! Oh, and my whale friend is throwing a party, so do you know if we have any hamburger meat?"

This was going to be a _long_ week…

_Day 3: Proper Attire_

It was like having kids all over again. Not that he's ever had kids! But, then again, all of these nations had been his "children" at some point. The sad truth was, however, that they still _acted_ like kids. England set up a large guest room where they could all spend the night. When he went to wake them up the next morning, Canada and America had somehow ended up in the same bed…the same went for Australia and Seychelles. As a matter of fact, England had a very frightening experience waking up to find Sealand sleeping next to him.

It was about 10:00 am, and enough was enough. "Get your arses out of bed, you lazy gits!"

_Home, sweet home…_Alfred thought as he stirred in bed. He let a gurgle come out of his mouth as a response while the other nations just grunted. England was not satisfied. "Well, I guess I'll go make breakfast then…" he began.

The entire room was awake in an instant. "I'll go mix the pancake batter!" Canada screamed as he leapt from his bed. America followed behind with, "And I'll take care of the bacon! And not that stupid Canadian bacon that's really just ham! I mean real bacon!" The two blond nations then began to argue on their way downstairs. Seychelles groggily sat up from her bed and turned to the right. "Ahh!!!!!!!" she screamed as she fell onto the floor. England guessed that she hadn't realized Australia there. "G'day, beautiful," he said, winking at her. Did he hang out with France?

Sealand now ran into the room, complaining about how Canada and Alfred wouldn't let him help make breakfast, while Hong Kong tried to climb over the fight taking place between Seychelles, who had a fish in her hand as a weapon, and Australia, who was being mercilessly beaten by said fish. Tony came in, screamed, pointed at England's head, and ran out of the room.

This was a great way to start the morning.

Eventually, England managed to take care of the chaotic situation enough to have everyone calmly eating their pancakes and bacon at the dining room table. Alfred was slumped over his plate (he needed his morning coffee) while the other nations ate contently. Arthur had immediately called Lithuania to come take care of Tony and the whale, so that was out of the way as well.

As soon as everyone was done eating, Arthur ordered them all into the living room. All the nations (with the exception of England) were in their pajamas, and today, Arthur planned to give said nations proper clothing for their meeting with the Queen.

Alfred internally sighed. This meant he couldn't wear his bomber jacket. America just continued to stare up as Arthur lectured on and on about how clown wigs were not appropriate for the Queen and that (monkey) suits would be more suitable.

Well, it was a good thing England knew how to embroider and sew, because now Alfred had to stand in the middle of the living room on a stool and let Arthur hem his pants. And Alfred did _not_ blame the hamburgers.

Hong Kong was allowed to wear his stylish, yet old-fashioned outfit called a changshan. Alfred didn't care what it was called. It still looked like a dress. Seychelles was forced to wear a blue gown, which she felt was too tight and became very unhappy when she couldn't run freely with it on. She was currently trying to learn how to walk and balance on 10 inch heels. Australia volunteered to help, but when he took another look at the weaponry on her feet, he decided against it. Besides, he was too busy with his _own_ monkey suit and laughing at Alfred for ripping his pants like that. Canada was probably the only one who was fine with his suit. As long as he got to place a maple leaf pin on the suit jacket, he was fine.

When it was Sealand's turn for Arthur's outfit evaluation, he did nothing but kick and scream. Alfred just laughed at the scene before him. Sealand kept yelling things like, "You'll never get me into that monkey suit! Never!" while England kept trying to hold him down to button up the dress shirt.

When Arthur was all done, he told everyone to stand together so he could take a picture (he wanted proof that his former colonies could be sensible some of the time). At first the smiles were forced, and England noticed. Arthur felt the drain of the day press upon his shoulders, and his face betrayed his emotions. Alfred saw this and perked up in an instant. He showed his brightest smile, which in turn got Australia to smile. Then Sealand, then Canada, then Seychelles, and even the usually apathetic Hong Kong. Arthur smiled as well at the scene and placed the timer on his camera.

"C'mon England, get in the picture!" Alfred yelled as he waved England toward the group.

"Oh, no, I really shouldn't…" he said, shaking his head.

Moans of "c'mon England…" and "don't you love us?" and "pretty please…" came from the group of nations, and Arthur felt himself running towards them and smiling at the camera as well.

_Day 4: Etiquette_

If anything was to go absolutely disastrous on the Queen's birthday, it would have to be during supper. Arthur was well aware that not many people appreciated his fine cooking. However, his chefs should not be given the same treatment he usually receives every time he cooks a delicious meal. Training the other nations not to shout "This is disgusting!" or "Is this road kill??" would take a lot of practice. Proper table manners regarding correct placement of utensils would be out of the question. These nations weren't up for that sort of complex and strenuous task.

In order to train these nations properly, he decided on making the one thing he knew everyone hated the most: his cookies. For some reason, every time he tried baking delicious, golden chocolate chip cookies, people would start gagging, choking, and then bawl their eyes out. To this day, he hadn't the slightest idea why.

_But no matter!_ England thought as he stirred the batter. He accidently spilled his entire shaker of salt in the mix (again), but no one would notice. About 20 minutes later, he was pulling out a tray of cookies from the oven. They were only slightly burnt…cookies were supposed to look black if they had chocolate, right?

He walked into the dining room with his tray of cookies. He had made sure to tie everyone down to their respective chairs (_A neccessary precaution…_ Arthur thought to himself)_._ Alfred and Australia were crying loud enough to break the sound barrier (honestly, hadn't Alfred been just fine eating his bangers and whatnot a few days ago?), Seychelles was trying to escape, Sealand was shrieking, Hong Kong had a look of horror on his face, and Canada was whimpering softly to himself.

Arthur decided to start with the two blubbering idiots first. He had a fork with him because he didn't feel like getting bitten by anyone today. Australia was his first victim. "Australia, open your mouth and take a bite. I expect you to make no sounds whatsoever." England said.

Australia swallowed the lump in his throat. He had faced worse than this…poisonous insects, dangerous wilderness, rampaging koalas…he could _do this_. He put on his stoic face and accepted the fork full of cookie. Without changing the expression on his face, Australia managed to chew and swallow his piece whole.

Next was Alfred. America just stared at the impending doom on the fork. He was willing to try Arthur's food once in a while to make him happy, but…this situation was different. Arthur _purposely_ made something taste bad which could only mean the food was probably a hundred times worse than what he's eaten before! As the fork slowly came towards his mouth, Alfred had small flashbacks of England smiling while feeding him dinner when he was just a young colony…_Say "Ahh…" Alfred_…he recalled Arthur cooing to him. The young colony had huffed, explaining he was 3 years old and perfectly capable of eating without England's help. However, he accepted the spoonful of, well, he wasn't quite sure what it was, and ate it obediently with a small smile on his face. Those had been nice, relaxing days. America closed his eyes, remembered Arthur's smile when he accepted the bite that day, and ate the dreadful cookie.

He chewed slowly and carefully without changing the expression on his face. When he opened his eyes, they locked with England's. "Well…?" Arthur began.

Alfred stared without saying anything. However, just a few seconds later, he exclaimed, "That was awesome! Do you have more?!"

No one could tell if he was just a great liar, or if perhaps he liked chocolate to the point where it could be added to anything and he would eat it.

Later on, Seychelles had to come to terms that there would be no fish served on the Queen's birthday. Canada had to learn that there would be no maple syrup. For Hong Kong, no chopsticks (which wasn't really a big deal, as a matter of fact). And last but not least, Sealand had to accept that he was not allowed to spit out his food onto the floor like he did with the cookie.

_Day 5: Proper Behavior_

Arthur felt his strength weaken as this day rolled by. This was the last day of teaching his childr- colonies, his colonies- what they needed to know before they saw the Queen. He had the nations practice proper English, for one (and yet Alfred, a native English speaker, had the most trouble). As the day ended, England flopped down on the couch, drained from his week's effort of work. _Just two more days until my Queen's birthday_…he mused.

While Arthur closed his eyes and relaxed, Alfred and the other nations were watching him from the other room. They hadn't done too well learning today. There was a lot of complaining and chaos at having to be taught what was deemed "respectful behavior", and Arthur looked _exhausted_.

_Day 6: Rest_

England had nothing planned today. Absolutely nothing. It would be useless to try to teach the colonies more. And besides, he had bigger problems on his hands…like the fact that he couldn't _find_ them!

He had woken up promptly at 8 o' clock that morning and went to their room, only to find the beds completely empty! He ran around his house like a madman, checking every room and hallway he came upon. _Once I get my hands on those brats, I'm going to kill them!_ Arthur thought as he frantically ran around his home. _I'm going to kill them, I'm going to smack sense into them, and oh goodness, what if they're hurt?!_ Arthur felt his chest constrict at the thought.

He stopped running and paused to catch his breath. He thought he heard voices outside…Arthur looked through the window nearby to find that all the nations were _outside_. Oh.

England stormed out of the house in his pajamas. What were they doing out here?! "You gits, I was so worried! Why the bloody hell are you all out here?!"

"Aw, did you just say you were worried, Arthur?" Alfred mocked, causing England to blush almost immediately.

"N-no, I most certainly was not worried! It-it's just that I thought you were all stuck in a ditch somewhere, and it _is_ the Queen's birthday tomorrow, and I was only looking for you because she wants you all to attend, and furthermore-"

"Aw, I think he missed us, guys," Alfred taunted as he turned his head to the group of nations who looked as if they were pitching a tent…wait, what?

Alfred and Seychelles were trying to start a fire. Australia and Hong Kong were pitching tents. Canada and Sealand were preparing food. What was going on? Were they camping in his backyard?!

"What…what are you gits up to now?!" Arthur yelled.

"Calm down, _mom_, we're going to celebrate your week of hard work with a relaxing camping trip!" Alfred exclaimed with joy. England blushed again at being called "mom".

"I-I am not your mother! If anything, I was your father!" England said as he tried saving face.

"Nah, mum, you're not manly enough!" Australia cut in. Seychelles tried to stifle a laugh. She decided to join in as well. "France was more a father to me, but you've always been…well, you get cranky, force us to eat food when we don't want to, you embroider…"

His childr- _colonies_- were now giggling amongst themselves. England let a small smile crawl upon his face.

Later on, they were all sitting around a nice fire as darkness descended upon the day. Canada and Sealand's cooking had been absolutely delicious. Now they were all roasting marshmallows over the fire.

"Scary story time!" Alfred shouted. The other nations just groaned in response.

"No scary stories, Alfred, you'll never be able to get to sleep!" England shouted at the young nation.

"Ok, fine, no scary story time…how about some stories from the good old days then?" Alfred suggested.

Canada looked like he had something in mind, and began, "You mean, like, stories from the past? When Arthur took care of us?"

England blushed for the millionth time that day. "Sure, go ahead Canada!" Alfred shouted.

"W-well, there was that one time when England took me to go see the bunnies by the forest's edge…that was kind of nice," Matthew said with a small smile.

Seychelles cut in with her own story as well. "Yeah, and there was the time when England and I fished together. He wasn't very good and a fish even smacked him on the head with its tail," she said while laughing.

"That's nothin' compared to the time when he was bein' chased by those poisonous spiders near the house," Australia interjected. England just grumbled at that last story. "But there was also that time you got me a pet koala. I named him Artie after you. He was my best mate."

Sealand was frantically waving his hand in the air. "Ooh, me next! Pick me! I want to go next!" When all the nations were facing him, Sealand began, "There was one time when jerk England took me for ice cream after the World Summit meeting! He didn't let me be a nation, but the ice cream was awesome!"

Hong Kong now looked like he wanted to say something as well. Soon, every nation turned to him and he looked away awkwardly. "W-well, I remember once when Arthur took me to see fireworks for the first time…" he said as a small smile entered his face.

"Hey America," Seychelles began. "What about you?"

Alfred laughed. "Man, do I have _hundreds_ of stories to tell! Like the time I went dancing with that bull! He was so _scared_, but I was awesome back then too, so I could handle it. Oh, and there was the time when I got a scraped knee. I'll admit, I was crying, b-but they were only manly tears of bravery!" he reassured everyone. "Anyway, England kissed it to make it better, and I even got a bunny the next day!"

Everyone was smiling now around the campfire now. Even England, who was now looking down at the stick in his hand. His marshmallow was completely on fire now and burning to a crisp, but he didn't care. "There was that one time…" he began, "when Alfred went missing. I couldn't find the little git _anywhere_, and I was worried. I searched the woods and found him sleeping in a small pile of leaves. He looked…well, so _innocent_…" he said as he stared off into space. "There have been times when I've caught you all sleeping when you were little. It's hard to believe you're all grown up, and independent at that. Sometimes…I don't know…I still see the little faces I used to take care of."

The former colonies all had small smiles on their faces. Alfred then interjected with, "Oh yeah, I remember that…You found me, and started yelling about how worried you were…and the next thing I know, you're crying and hugging me really tight…" America was smiling brightly now, and he placed his arm over England's shoulders.

Alfred loved days like this…days when Personality 5 made its appearance. This was Mother England, who had multiple personalities of his (or maybe her) own. Mother England could scold and yell and _nag_ like no tomorrow. And then there were times…when Mother England would read a story late at night before you went to bed. Sometimes he'd place a small kiss on your head when he thought you were already asleep. The symptoms of Mother England included nagging, a need to feed others, embroidery, displays of affection, and caring for his colonies. This personality was definitely one of America's favorites, and one that he missed quite a lot…He hadn't seen Arthur like this ever since the Revolutionary War…and it was really nice that he got to witness it again after all these years.

It was too cold to actually stay in their sleeping bags, so everyone headed back into the house's guest room. At around 1:30 am, when England thought everyone was asleep, he snuck into the room and placed a small kiss upon each of their foreheads. He quietly tiptoed out of the room, unaware that Alfred had opened his eyes and was now smiling softly to himself.

_Day 7: The Queen's Birthday_

So yes…England was terrified. He immediately stood up and coaxed the other nations to do so as well. The music played and the Queen walked into the room with grace. She grinned when she saw the other nations standing around their assigned table. She couldn't wait to converse with them all.

As the course of the day ran, Queen Elizabeth II sat down with the nations and struck up multiple, pleasant conversations. Hong Kong had amazing stories of the Oriental world to tell. Sealand was just so cute in his little suit, even though he was grumpy the entire time. _He looks like a little Arthur_…she mused. America and Australia were, dare to believe it, the politest at the table. They had even been taught proper table manners. Seychelles was very beautiful in her blue dress and looked to be enjoying herself quite thoroughly. Canada had decided against bringing his bear to the table (_Thank goodness…_ England thought to himself) and opted to quietly converse about the wildlife back home.

Arthur looked around the table and couldn't help but smile…it was filled with both relief and love.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hope you liked this chapter! I'm soooooo sorry it took so long, but I made the chapter longer, so hopefully that'll make up for it? ^^;

Mother England was difficult to write…at first I was thinking of just making a small fic about Colonial!America and Mother!England, but then I wanted to do all the nations he's been a mother to…and then, of course, crimson-obsidian-rose had her brilliant idea, and it was so amazing I had to write it! I truly hope I've gotten the different nations respective personalities down…if you feel anything could be improved, please tell me! I love feedback :3

Btw, about the whole bed situation. I feel as if America and Canada are true, blue brothers and can sleep in the same bed without having, um, "Crazy smex time" xD America just got a little scared and needed to sleep next to someone :3 Crimson-obsidian-rose suggested Australia hitting on Seychelles, so that's why he was in there. As for Sealand...well, he was just lonely, is all :3

Update: Britannia Angel :) (btw, if you guys have any ideas for a personality, feel free to tell me. I've already written down about five more I could write about, but I'd appreciate your opinions as well…no guarantees, though! ^^;)


	8. Britannia Angel

**A/N:** I can't even begin tell you all just how lovely your reviews are. Thank you. Here is the next installment, Britannia Angel! Please enjoy~

oh, and btw, Happy Birthday, America!! :D (goes to watch fireworks)

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Chapter Eight: **Britannia Angelf**

Alfred was having the time of his life! This had to be the greatest birthday bash he's ever had! It was July 4th, his Independence Day, and he was throwing a party to celebrate. Everyone was there. Canada, France, Spain, the Italy brothers, Germany, Japan, and the list went on. Well, everyone was there with the exception of England. Arthur would only come to Alfred's birthday every few decades, and it was very rare that America would see him here today.

But something like that shouldn't get Alfred down, and so, he partied all day long. He ate all of his favorite foods (catered by McDonalds) and had on all of his favorite music (a lot of them were Michael Jackson songs, may he rest in peace). It wasn't until the party began to wind down that he actually had time to reflect on the day's events.

America wasn't the type to sulk. However, he couldn't stop the feeling in the pit of his stomach that something- _someone_- was missing. He knew everyone was having fun, and he had been having fun too…but how could his birthday feel complete without his favorite complaining, uptight guy by his side?

America sighed softly to himself. In a whisper, he said, "I wish by some miracle that England would just come over for my birthday…"

Alfred paused. He immediately clamped his hands to his mouth, eyes wide. _Uh oh…_

* * *

Arthur had been grumpily sitting at home, mourning. He hated this day more than any other. He probably hated the day even more than he hated _France_, and that was saying something. He knew he should be over at the party. It would make Alfred happy. However, he just couldn't…he couldn't bear the thought that America was this smirking, independent nation that rejected him all those years ago…

"Damn Declaration of Independence…damn France…damn bloody, naïve, little ungrateful _brat_…" He whispered these things over and over again as he sipped his tea in the living room. It was like a mantra, and Arthur slowly began to tune out his surroundings. His eyes felt droopy and his tea cup was slowly slipping out of his hand…

Wait. Just what was happening?

England's head bobbed up and down, and soon he had a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He fell to the ground, dropping his teacup in the process, causing it to shatter into thousands of pieces. Arthur clutched at his stomach, grasping at the cloth desperately. His breathing came out in small, repetitive gasps. It felt like something was clawing at him from the inside, and it was absolutely _painful_. Before he could try to stand up and race towards his phone to call for help, he heard fabric tearing.

"Oh, bloody hell…" he said as he looked towards his right into a mirror. Two wings had just emerged from his back and his now completely ruined shirt was falling to the floor. Another wave of pain hit him again and a halo appeared above his head. England managed to get himself off the floor and into his room. He knew he had a rope somewhere, so if he could just tie himself to the bed before it was too late…

But alas, it _was_ too late. England's clothes had come off completely and were replaced by an angel's outfit. A wand appeared into his hand and he began to float towards the ceiling. Suddenly, a voice rang inside his head, saying…_I wish by some miracle that England would just come over for my birthday…_It sounded like Alfred.

As if his wings had a mind of their own, Arthur took off towards America's house…he couldn't deny anyone who he knew a wish. He felt his mind being taken over with notions of bliss and purity, but before his thoughts could be taken control of entirely, he shouted, "Damn that Alfred for not keeping his bloody mouth shut!" as he soared into the night air.

* * *

America was just standing by the open window, staring out into the sky as if waiting for something to happen. His expression was a mixture of shock, anxiety, and uneasiness. _Maybe…maybe Arthur didn't hear…yeah, and everything will be just fine. Yep, just fine…_Alfred thought to himself. _Please let everything be just fine…_

Canada saw Alfred staring out the window. Walking over to his brother, he placed a hand on America's shoulder and asked, "Um, Alfred, you ok, eh?" Suddenly, however, a rush of sparkles zipped by through the window and gathered at the center of the room. _The hell…?_ Matthew thought as he looked at a glistening angel that was currently the center of everyone's attention.

"Greetings!" the angel spoke. It…it kind of looked like England…Wait.

Matthew did a double take as he stared straight into the eyes of Arthur Kirkland, who was currently dressed like an angel (with wings, a halo, and a wand to top it all off) and floating in the center of the room.

Yep. Alfred spiked the drinks again.

The angel continued to speak. "You may call me Britannia Angel. I grant miracles to all who ask of them. I hear there is someone in need of a miracle?" he asked while looking around the room. He spotted America staring up at him with a baffled expression on his face. "Ah, Alfred! I am here to grant your wish!"

Murmurs of "what wish?" circulated around the guests in America's home. Alfred ignored everyone else and continued to stare up at England. It looked like Personality 6 had arrived: Britannia Angel. Tonight, Arthur was (literally) an angel. For some strange reason, every time someone Arthur knew wished for a miracle (and you had to say the word miracle or else it wouldn't work) or when he was just plain drunk enough, he would turn into an angel. Symptoms of Britannia Angel included wings, a halo, a magical wand that could grant miracles, an endless demeanor of happiness, pure thoughts, and magic-induced chaos.

"U-uh, yeah, I did make a wish…" Alfred managed to stutter out. "B-but it's ok! You don't need to grant it!" Arthur was going to kill him once he snapped out of this Britannia Angel phase, so it was best to get England as far away from here as possible.

"Nonsense! I am here, as your wish requested! Let us celebrate your birthday~" Britannia Angel proclaimed.

Suddenly, a small cough was heard coming from the corner of the room. There stood France, wish his fist over his mouth, staring at the floating Arthur. "So, you grant wishes, _non_? Any wish we ask of you?"

England turned around and glared at the Frenchman. "Any wish except yours, you git!" Well, apparently not all of England was completely taken over.

"But, I wish by some _miracle_ that Spain wants to sleep with me…" Francis said feigning sorrow, but with a small, knowing smile on his face.

"I-I, uh, I…" Britannia Angel was struggling now. His hand shook as he brought his wand into the air. It flicked as if it had a mind of its own, and _POOF_, Spain was suddenly running towards Francis.

"Ay caramba, Francis! I'm _so_ in love~" Antonio gushed as he hugged France's head. Francis looked like the happiest person alive, until Spain continued, "I'm so in love with your hair! It's so perfect and glossy and smooth and _amazing_…" Antonio pet France's head repeatedly.

"I wish by some miracle that Feliciano praise me and start hating that potato bastard, Germany!" someone shouted from another corner of the room. Arthur struggled as he unwillingly waved his wand, and _POOF_, Italy had come running over towards his older brother, Romano. "Ve, ve, Lovino~" Italy began, "I just love your tomatoes…they're almost as good as potatoes!"

"Damnit, you English bastard, he still praises that potato bastard!" Romano screamed at Britannia Angel.

Suddenly, more and more people were shouting out wishes toward Arthur. He was becoming overwhelmed and trying his best to appease everyone's demands, but there were so many! England's eyes were filled with worry at all the wishes, and his forehead was slick with sweat. "P-please, everyone, one at a time!" he said, attempting to silence the crowd that had gathered around him.

Alfred looked at Arthur, struggling to help everyone, and before he knew it, he shouted, "I wish by some miracle that the Britannia Angel get some rest and let the real England appear!"

Everyone stared at the angel in the center of the rom. Arthur turned his face toward Alfred, and then his wand. He waved it vigorously a few times, but nothing happened. _Damn thing must be busted…_ he thought to himself. Wait. Those were England's personal thoughts. That means…he was reverting back to old England!

Soon, his wings and halo disappeared in the blink of an eye and he dropped down to the floor. He still held his wand in his hand and saw it begin to fade slowly. Alfred knew what would happen next, and quickly retrieved a blanket to cover England before the angel outfit disappeared completely as well.

Arthur wrapped the blanket around him as he felt his angel clothes vanish into thin air. He stood up and clutched at his forehead. He had a splitting headache and felt very tired and woozy. England looked around him and saw people's stares surrounding him all over the room. "Uh…" he began, a heavy blush spreading across his features.

Alfred just pushed Arthur away from the embarrassing situation into the kitchen and said, "Well, hope you all enjoyed the party, folks! Tony will escort you all out of the house!"

Later on, Alfred had given some of his clothes to England to put on. Arthur now sat in the kitchen, humiliated and depressed at the same time. America leaned against the table and stared at England.

"You know, Iggy, even though I know you don't want to be here, I'm still glad you came…" he began softly.

"You bloody git…" England complained quietly. "It's all your fault I'm here anyway, so have your fill. Hope you're happy now…" Arthur placed his head on the table and breathed a heavy sigh.

"England…" America said, "C'mon, cheer up! I didn't mean to wish it, and besides, it wouldn't have happened if you had just come to the party-"

"I don't even understand why you _would_ want me here!" he shouted suddenly. "The whole damn reason you even have this holiday of yours is because this is the day you wanted me _out_ of your life!"

Alfred stared helplessly at the man before him. "England…it's not that I didn't want you around…"

"Then please, Alfred, fill me in!" Arthur barked.

"England, you have to understand…you used me. I was an ATM machine back then and you know it." Arthur just looked down into his hands at the table. "And you know, Arthur, maybe if you just let my people have a voice in your Parliament…things would be…different," he tried explaining. When England said nothing, he continued, "It's not that I didn't want to see you anymore…I just wanted you to hear me out, to listen to my opinions like a fellow adult…I wasn't a kid anymore, and I'm not a kid now, no matter how many stupid and goofy things I do."

England was _still_ staring down at his hands while Alfred tried to coax something out of the man. He decided to just keep talking…"Arthur…having to declare war was one of the hardest things I've ever done…I was afraid you'd hate me, and never stop hating me…but all I ever try to do is impress you…but right now, I get the feeling that deep down, despite the good times we've had, you really _do_ hate me."

"Oh shut up…" England said in nothing more than a whisper. "I don't hate you, you bloody git." Alfred looked towards Arthur and saw a small tear roll down his cheek. America leaned over Arthur and carefully wrapped an arm around him. England gave in to the touch and rested his head against Alfred's shoulder.

"Happy birthday, bastard…"

"Thanks, Arthur…"

* * *

A/N: Yep, that's right, I did it. I combined America's birthday with Britannia Angel. And no, my mind is _not_ filled with crack…it isn't. I swear xD (btw, sorry for all those pagebreaks in the story, but I wasn't able to think of ways to get rid of them ^^;)

Btw, for some reason, my chapters always end with America giving England a hug…huh…^^; (I think I need better plot lines o_O) Well, I hope you all enjoyed!

Update: Evil Sorcerer (lol, he's got a good, angelic magical side to him, and yet he has an evil, magic sorcerer side xD arthur has way too many conflicting personalities)


	9. Evil Sorcerer

**A/N:** Each time you guys review, I honestly feel the need to hug you all~ thank you so much! I can only hope my chapters are all up to your expectations!

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Chapter 9: **Evil Sorcerer**

The black cloak billowed behind Arthur as he walked swiftly through the length of the dark, stony corridor. Just a few paces in front lay a set of old, metal doors with bizarre inscriptions upon the surface. England pushed his way past the doors and into a chamber with a round, intricate circle at its center. The circle itself had various symbols surrounding the outer edge while strange swirls crowded the center.

Arthur Kirkland had the hood of his cloak up. It cast a sinister shadow upon his eyes as he began reading from an incantation book in his hands. A dark aura soon arose from the circle's center, purple smoke billowing in long twists up towards the ceiling. England's words became a mantra as he repeated them over and over again.

"Melior cibus…melior cibus…melior cibus…" he said as he began to watch his masterpiece take true form in the circle. There was absolutely no way anyone could place doubt upon his magic…

England had spent several months just coming up with the right incantation for the job. For the past couple of weeks, he had been mixing various ingredients with each other and had laid them into the intricate pattern of a circle on the floor. Everything was going smoothly so far…as long as there were no interruptions-

"England, I found that ointment you wanted!" Alfred shouted happily through the double doors behind Arthur. England let out a yelp of surprise and turned around to see America waving around his ointm- _lotion_. It wasn't ointment, it was only lotion!

"A-Alfred you wanker! Get out of here! Can't you see I'm a bit busy?" Arthur shouted at the young nation behind him while shaking a fist into the air. Honestly, couldn't he get _any_ peace and quiet even in the old, secret crypts of his house? How did Alfred find him anyway?

"Oh, I can see your busy doing magic tricks! Don't worry, I'll put your ointment somewhere safe like the front porch so everyone can see!" Alfred teased. He watched as Arthur began to shout incoherent curses while shaking his fist into the air. America just laughed and closed his eyes. It was always so interesting to see Iggy like this.

Apparently, Personality 7: Evil Sorcerer had made his appearance. This Evil Sorcerer was actually pretty bad at magic. No matter what he did, something whacky always ended up happening. Evil Sorcerer England thought of himself as a genius. He would stand around cauldrons or weird circles and start muttering things until something happened. He would usually use it to curse other people (like Germany and Russia) but it would either fail or backfire. The symptoms of the Evil Sorcerer included dark magic, billowing cloaks, sorcery books, bizarre incantations, and an evil laugh.

Just as Alfred had that last thought, Arthur began to cackle to himself. "It's almost done!" he shouted towards the ceiling.

_I wonder what England is trying to do _this_ time…_Alfred thought to himself. Suddenly, a huge swirl of smoke issued from the center of the circle. England's arms dropped the book and were in the air now as he laughed while continuing his incantation. America strained to hear what Arthur was saying…it almost sounded like "melior cibus". Alfred knew a bit of Latin here and there (he had all those Latin sayings on his currency, after all) and whatever England was saying translated into "better food".

Better food? Was Arthur trying to cook better food like _this_?

Before Alfred could question Arthur's actions any further, he felt a heavy wind hit him square in the face. He fell to the ground and blacked out almost immediately…

* * *

England had never felt so guilty in his entire life. He had found Alfred knocked out after the blast. However, something about Alfred had…changed. No longer was he the United States of America, the blond nation with the pearly white smile and who annoyed practically any other person he met. England was now staring at someone, _something_, else.

Alfred was now a little rice ball.

He was a _rice ball_. England couldn't understand it. How could this happen? He had done everything perfectly up to this point! Why would his incantation affect other people? He was only trying to summon delicious food, not convert people _into_ delicious food!

The little rice ball, called mochi in Japan, was currently napping, snug in his little makeshift bed England had put together. It had the cutest face, Arthur had to admit. The mochi still had Alfred's glasses on and even had that one strand of stray hair sticking out the top of its head.

It appeared as if England wasn't getting anywhere with this sleeping mochi, so he decided that it would be best to wake Alfred up…even if he was scared of how he would react. England wasn't sure everyone welcomed waking up as a little rice ball.

Arthur gently stuck out his finger and poked the squishy, little blob. It was extremely soft to the touch. The mochi began to wiggle a little and yawned. The rice ball blinked a few times and slowly turned its eyes to face England. Suddenly, the mochi had sprung to life. It hopped out of its bed and started bouncing up and down with just the _cutest_ smile on its face. Arthur found himself trying to hold in an "awww" at the way the rice ball was jumping. Instead, he grudgingly grabbed the nearby mirror and placed it in front of the bouncing ball. It stopped bouncing.

Instead, the mochi was staring straight into the mirror, eyes wide and mouth open. The left eye began to twitch, and Arthur found himself feeling even guiltier than before.

The worst part was that England was having a picnic that day with various other nations. He had been hoping to show the others his new food, but now…now he hoping that no one would show up. He had been so stupid! He shouldn't have told everyone to come until he perfected his food summoning technique!

England carefully placed Mochimerica (his new name for the little rice ball) on his shoulder. Apparently, Mochimerica couldn't talk even though he had a mouth. Although, that was probably due to the fact that he had no vocal cords. But for some reason, Mochimerica had a stomach and was nibbling on a tiny spinach leaf Arthur had given him to distract himself from his…current state of disability.

"Ah, bonjour Arthur~" a voice called out. Arthur looked towards the picnic table he had set up in his front yard to see France already sitting there. Wait…he never invited Francis!

"France! What are you doing here?" England demanded of the man who currently wore a puzzled look in his face.

"Perhaps the better question is, England, what is that peculiar being resting upon your shoulders?" France asked while pointing to Mochimerica. Arthur began to stutter.

"That i-is, um, well, a present from Japan, yes! That's what it is!" England answered quickly, praying that Francis wouldn't notice any resemblance between America and the rice ball.

Francis stood up and took a closer look at the little blob. "It looks so familiar…" he muttered while rubbing his chin. "Ah, perhaps you tried cooking and your food was so bad, it just came alive, non?"

England just grumbled an angry "set the table" and marched off to see if anyone else was coming.

Apparently, quite a lot of people had accepted his invitation. Well, _that_ was a surprise. Usually people ran away from his invites to eat. Then again, everyone who came asked if Francis was at the picnic first…damn bastard and his fancy, delicious cooking.

Arthur quickly scanned the area, desperately attempting to look for China. Perhaps he would know a cure for Alfred since he'd been around for so many years and probably had experience in dealing with _some_ form of magic.

"Excuse me, pardon me, coming through," England quickly muttered as he made his way through the crowd outside his house. He smelled food wafting in the air since everyone had brought a dish that day.

"Ah, England-san, how do you do?" Japan asked when he spotted England coming closer.

"O-oh, Japan, yes, hello! Have you seen your older brother by any chance?" he asked distractedly as he looked around the crowd for China.

"I am afraid not," Japan replied. As soon as he said those words, England ran into yet another crowd of people. Kiku looked back with a curious glance. Arthur seemed very nervous. Perhaps his dish was not fully prepared…or perhaps it was just burning.

Japan walked towards the long picnic table that looked as if it would be able to seat every nation present. He sat down comfortably and placed his food on the table next to Korea. He had brought a favorite dish of his.

Arthur, on the other hand, had been running for quite a while and _still_ couldn't find China anywhere. "Sorry Alfred, I don't see him…" England admitted, breathing heavily and facing his shoulder. Arthur did a double take. Mochimerica wasn't perched upon his shoulder anymore! England quickly turned his head in various directions. "A-alfred?!" he shouted.

"My food is ready, everyone! Dig in~" called Francis to all the nations. Suddenly, everyone ran towards the table and took their seats, placing their own food items before them.

England nervously sat down and tried to scan the length of the picnic table for Mochimerica. His hands began to shake as he noticed just how much food everyone had brought. Everyone had already begun eating too…_Please, oh please let Alfred be ok…_England thought desperately.

Japan muttered a quick "itadakimasu" and was now fully prepared to quietly indulge in his meal. He separated his chopsticks and used them to pick up one of the homemade food items he had brought, called mochi.

Arthur was still scanning the table when he spotted Japan about to place something white into his mouth…a white blob. Wait! That wasn't just an ordinary white blob! That was mochi! And it was wiggling!

"Alfred!" England shouted as he jumped out of his seat and ran towards Mochimerica, about to be eaten by Japan. Right before Kiku could get the little rice ball into his mouth, he was viciously tackled to the ground by a bundle of green. "Alfred, I found you!" Arthur shouted once Mochimerica was safely in his hands. He hugged the little rice ball and kept saying, "thank goodness" over and over again. Unfortunately for Japan, England was still lying on top of him.

"A-arthur, c-can't breathe…" he wheezed. England looked down, blushed, and immediately stood up. Japan took in a big gulp of air and sat up, his body still on the ground.

Arthur looked around and noticed that everyone was staring. With an awkward smile, he pointed to Alfred and said a small "oops".

It turned out that China was only a little late that day. England rushed to him as quickly as possible when he saw Yao come into his front yard. After explaining the situation, Yao laughed and said he'd done the same to Korea before…but only on purpose. The spell would wear off in just a matter of hours. At that, England breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Alfred eventually did transform back into his normal self. Instead of yelling at Arthur, he merely backed away out of his house silently with a nervous look on his face. Now that the picnic was over, England had the house all to himself. _Finally_.

He decided that, since there was no one else around, it would be the best time to perfect his food summoning spell. If there were no distractions, then there would be no problems, right?

He put on his cloak, muttered the incantations, and watched as the purple smoke began to rise in the center of the circle once more. This was it! He would finally have the perfect food!

"Hello, England?" someone called from behind.

Arthur froze. He looked quickly behind him to see none other than Canada at his door!

"Oh, hey England, you invited me to your picnic, but I don't see anyone around anymore. Was I late?"

And suddenly, Canada was hit head on with a gust of wind.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I really hope you enjoyed that chapter! I want to thank crimson-obsidian-rose for inspiring me for this fic :3 I started talking to her and BAM! I had an epiphany xD

For those of you who don't know, Mochimerica (also known as Ameriblob) is an actual little illustration of America in rice ball form :3 You can find it on Himaruya's blog, I believe

Update: Mr. Unicorn (I've decided to stick with the magic/fantasty theme, as you can tell ^^; I know a lot of you want to see Pirate!England, and I want that chapter to be really special, so I'm going to have to brainstorm quite a few scenarios so it'll be perfect, ok? :3)


	10. Mr Unicorn

A/N: I am _so_ sorry for updating so late (more than a week) but work at the lab has been really cutting into my enjoyment time :/ Not that I don't enjoy working in the lab, it's just that it's so tiring that my brain becomes numb. I don't want to rant, but you see, there's an experiment I've been working really hard on for the past two weeks, and I just got the results about three days ago. Apparently, they're null and void (as in my agarose gel showed that I have degraded RNA, but whatever). So I've been a bit depressed and I've been having to write and research a lot as well. On top of that, my house just underwent renovations, and my family and I are beginning to clean up the place, which means I had to move my laptop to my room (except my room has horrible wiring, so I couldn't come on for very long each time). I know this is a horrible excuse, but I hope you'll all find it in your hearts to forgive me~

Well, despite everything, I truly hope you enjoy this next installment of Arthur's Phases

* * *

Chapter 10: **Mr. Unicorn**

Alfred F. Jones had to be the smartest guy out there. He was confident all the nations would agree to this statement. After all, he was smart enough to land the first man on the moon (despite Russia's claim that he was lying), smart enough to discover aliens and befriend whales, and smart enough to think of kickass war strategies. And he was _definitely_ smart enough to realize that fairies and unicorns did not exist.

Arthur, on the other hand, was a different story.

America was currently watching England from behind the door after the World Summit meeting that day. Arthur had been the last one in the room, and the young nation still had a few things to discuss with the man. As soon as he walked back towards the room, however, he heard light laughter. England was hardly ever happy, being the grumpy old guy that he was, so it shocked Alfred to hear the bubbling happiness escaping Arthur's lips.

"Oh you guys, you didn't have to visit me~" Alfred overheard. "Clarice, your mane is gorgeous, have you been following the advice of Ms. Twinkle?"

As Alfred listened to England's coos, he knew he was facing Personality 8: Mr. Unicorn. Now then, Mr. Unicorn was probably the personality America disliked the most. He was completely _delusional_ and appeared at the most random times. No matter what, Mr. Unicorn always claimed to be able to see fairies and leprechauns and unicorns and any other fake, magical creature. America figured that at some point, England had actually started to _believe_ the fairy tales he used to read to him when he was a little colony. The symptoms of Mr. Unicorn included extreme happiness, delusional behavior, and invisible, non-existent figments of Arthur's imagination supposedly popping up whenever England said so.

America decided to interrupt Arthur's conversation with thin air and let him know he was watching. "Hey Arthur, did you give those specks of dust names or should we just send you to the loony bin?"

England immediately turned his head up to see America standing by the door, looking smug as usual. "I do not belong in a loony bin!" he shouted at the young nation. Alfred raised an eyebrow in response. "You just can't see my friends," he said, trying to defend himself. Honestly, it was _his_ fault Alfred couldn't see them. Why should he himself pretend they weren't there?

Alfred walked over and casually draped an arm around England's shoulders. "Oh, come on, Iggy. Watch this," he said as he waved his other arm in the air before him. He was trying to prove that there was nothing in front of him, but that didn't stop England from crying out, "No, you'll hit Clarice!"

America sighed. There was just no getting through to this guy. "Honestly, England, there's _nothing_ there."

"As a matter of fact, Alfred, Clarice is right in front of you. Go sneeze in his face, girl!" Arthur asked to the empty space before him in America's eyes. However, England knew for a fact that he was staring straight into the face of a beautiful, light blue unicorn. America sighed. "Well, why don't you prove it then?"

Arthur stared up at Alfred and asked, "Prove? I don't need to prove anything to you to know that she, along with the rest of my friends, is real! You're just too impure to see them, and that's that," England said with a huff as he pulled out of Alfred's grasp and turned away.

"Ok, fine. I'll just continue teasing you, which is pretty fun, actually…" America said with a smirk. He could almost visualize the twitch in England's eyes at that moment, but unfortunately England still had his back to him.

"…fine."

"Huh, what was that?" America asked, unsure if he heard Arthur correctly.

The older nation answered, "I said fine, as in, I will prove to you that they are real." He turned back around and faced Alfred, eye to eye. "I will make sure that thick-headed skull of yours sees the error in your ways of making fun of me for something that is truly there."

Alfred looked at Arthur with a dumbfounded expression on his face. "W-wait, you're serious? Aw man, maybe I _do_ have to send you to the loony bin-"

"Yes, I'm being serious, and no, you do not!" England shouted. "Now then, show up tomorrow at my abode promptly at 8:30 am."

"Um, ok Arthur…" Alfred said uneasily. He had a feeling in his gut that tomorrow wasn't going to be such a normal visit…

* * *

Arthur Kirkland had a battle plan. He was going to prove once and for all that these supposedly "imaginary friends" of his were completely and utterly real. He could see them, talk to them, and even touch them with his own two hands. They were his friends, had been his friends since childhood. Who was Alfred to say they didn't exist?

America always went on about how he was a nutcase, and quite frankly, that hurt. Arthur knew, with all the conviction he could offer, that fairies, unicorns, elves, and other magical creatures weren't in his imagination. It wasn't as if he hadn't questioned his sanity already. Arthur recalled the first time he ever met Clarice. He ended up running away while screaming his head off. However, he had grown used to their presence. Besides, they were the only ones who treated him with any respect.

"England~" a sing-song like voice rang out from behind him. Arthur turned around to see Ms. Twinkle, a fairy with pink hair and a yellow dress, flutter towards him.

"Oh, Ms. Twinkle, right on schedule," England said to her. Behind Ms. Twinkle was Clarice the Unicorn and Rudolf the Elf. These three were Arthur's best friends out of them all. Ms. Twinkle was an absolute delight, always having tea and conversing with him in the garden. Clarice was so absolutely cute and beautiful at the same time. England was always utterly delighted to pet her mane every time she visited. Rudolf was very wise, clever, and easy to talk to about his problems.

Arthur noticed a soft glowing from behind his three friends. He leaned over them and saw an entire horde of fairies in his house.

"England, this is my family," Ms. Twinkle said as she introduced them. There had to be at least a hundred fairies flying around. Arthur gulped, hoping he wouldn't have to take care of them _all_. However, Ms. Twinkle continued, "Don't worry about where they will stay. We're fine living in the flowers of your garden."

England smiled at that. "Very well then. I hope my accommodations are to your liking, then."

Just a few seconds later, there was a knock at the door. "Oh, England! I'm here!" the voice behind the door shouted.

Arthur looked to his friends and whispered, "Into your positions! Move!" He walked towards the door and opened it to find the young blond smiling with a digital camera in his hands. "What is that blasted device for?" England asked him.

"What, this? It's for photographic evidence that your imaginary friends are real, which they're not, but I thought maybe I could catch a ghost with this thing, and besides-"

"Put that away and let's go," Arthur said while grabbing Alfred's arm. He began to walk out the door. Alfred was extremely confused now.

"W-wait, Arthur, I thought you were going to make them un-invisible or something-"

"That comes later. Right now, I'm going to prove to you that unicorns exist. Then we'll move on to fairies, then perhaps elves, and any other magical creature you say isn't real," Arthur told Alfred with a confident edge in his tone.

America was still confused. "But where are we going then?"

"To China, of course!"

"Wait, what?!" Alfred shouted while being dumped unceremoniously into the seat of Arthur's car.

"You'll see soon enough, Alfred," England said while opening the back door so his friends could come in. America stared at England while he did this.

"Arthur, I'm already in here…why are you holding the door open for no reason?"

"To let my friends in! Goodness, you can be so ignorant…" England muttered that last statement silently to himself.

The trip to the airport was long and tedious. America constantly complained that they were driving on the wrong side of the road and that the car England was driving was backwards. This caused England to respond that everything in America was backwards, including their measurement system. Then America began to rant about how the metric system was stupid, which caused England to drive to the nearest McDonald's to get the guy to shut up for once.

When they arrived at the airport, Alfred noticed that Arthur had about five tickets in his hands. When they got on the plane, he also noticed that there were empty seats behind them. Arthur sure was taking this thing seriously…America looked over to England with a worried expression on his face. Arthur was fast asleep from the exhausting car ride and didn't notice. Alfred stole another glance behind him at the empty seats, now beginning to think Arthur truly _was_ crazy…

They arrived at China's house the next morning. England knocked on the door with Alfred by his side.

They heard shuffling behind door and it was soon opened. "Hello there, aru," China greeted them. However, instead of stepping aside to let them in, Yao walked out and shut the door behind him.

Alfred looked to Arthur for an explanation. He had been asking why they were going to China's house the entire trip here, and he thought he deserved an answer.

Arthur looked up to him and simply said, "We're here to see unicorns, Alfred."

Now America was really confused. "China, please tell me _you_ don't believe in unicorns…do you?" He looked over to the other nation with a scared look on his face.

"I do not know whether they exist or not, aru. However, the legend of the unicorn originated in China. It has the body of a deer, the tail of an ox, the hooves of a horse, and a single horn in the middle of the forehead, aru," China answered. England looked over at Yao with a questioningly look.

"Do you honestly believe Clarice has the body of a deer and the tail of an ox?" he asked the other man.

"I am only stating the Chinese legend, aru!" he yelled back.

"I'll have you know that Clarice is a beautiful horse with a horn on her head! Her magnificent body cannot be demoted to that of a deer!"

"I think you're both crazy!" America shouted at the two arguing men. "Honestly, unicorns don't exist! Not in England, not in China, and _definitely_ not in America! Yao, I'm going to take Arthur home to get some bed rest, so-"

England put his hand over America's mouth to silence him. He coughed into his free hand and looked over to the Chinese man. "I'm sorry for arguing, China," he began, "but perhaps we should begin looking for a Chinese unicorn."

Yao nodded in response. "Of course, aru." America tried to say something, but his voice was muffled by England's hand. "England, perhaps you should let America speak…" Arthur took his hand off of Alfred's mouth with a wary look.

"Ugh, that tasted like leather glove…" he complained, trying to spit out the awful taste. "Anyway, how do we even _find_ a Chinese unicorn?"

England was curious about this as well. Although he had invited America to go with him at China's approval, he had no idea about the differences in summoning unicorns of different parts of the world.

China smiled at the young nation and responded, "They come in times of good fortune."

Both England and America stared at the Chinese man before them with questioning looks on their faces. Both were thinking the same thing.

England decided to be the one to voice his concern. "And, when will that _be_, exactly?" he asked.

"Beats me, aru," Yao said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Arthur just continued to stare. America counted the seconds before the upcoming burst.

"You mean to tell me I drove and flew all the way out here with this idiot to see a blasted unicorn that might not even show up?!" he shouted.

"Pretty much, aru," China said. He was only being hospitable when England asked to come over. Yao honestly had no clue how to _summon_ a unicorn. He only thought they were all going to hang out together and perhaps wait for one to show up. Magical creatures always _did_ make appearances whenever England was around anyway…

Arthur immediately grasped Alfred's hand and marched away.

They were driving, once again, after another exhausting flight. Arthur was the one to take the wheel since they were back in Europe. America looked over to the older nation, only to see him grumbling to himself as he drove.

He decided to speak up. "Um, Arthur, maybe I should just go home-"

"No!" he answered immediately. "Listen, Alfred. If China is unable to summon a unicorn, then perhaps we should just summon one _my way_…"

Alfred looked towards the road ahead of him. The tone England had used to say that last sentence had been pretty scary…

"S-so, what is your way, England? A-and where _are_ we, anyway?"

Arthur promptly stopped the car. Alfred felt himself jerk forward, his chest crashing into his seatbelt. They were parked outside of a house. The lawn was extremely tidy and organized. America thought he saw a few dog houses in the back, and there was even a military-like obstacle course next to the home. _Whoever lives here must really have a stick up the butt_…Alfred thought to himself.

England turned his head to America and simply said, "Wait here," before quickly getting out of the car and racing towards the house.

* * *

"Just what are you idiots doing?!" Germany shouted at the two blond men sitting in the front of the car. His body was tied down as he struggled in the backseat. England was racing down the road like a lunatic while America desperately clung to his seat for dear life.

"A-arthur, what's going on?! Why did we kidnap Germany?!" he practically screamed at the older nation.

England made a quick swerve into the next lane before responding. "Remember when you asked how _I_ would summon a unicorn?" America merely nodded in response. "Well, legend has it that only a young and fair virgin maiden can summon a unicorn," he said as he practically drove into a ditch. They weren't even on the road anymore. They were in the woods!

"T-then what does Germany have to do with anything?" America shouted at the psychopath driving the car.

"Oh, come on, Alfred! It's so obvious Ludwig is a complete virgin!" he shouted at the younger nation. Honestly, didn't the boy have any sense?

"Excuse me?!" Germany shouted from the backseat.

"And we're here!" England yelled happily as he immediately stopped the car. America felt his chest collide with his seatbelt, yet _again_, and heard a strange thud that sounded as if Germany had fallen from his seat onto the floor of the car. Alfred looked around him and saw that they were in a small meadow. Arthur got out of the car and opened the backseat door to let Ludwig out as well. Germany practically rolled out of the car, still bound by the ropes America hadn't even seen England use.

"England, who tied Germany up?" he asked.

"Why Rudolf the Elf did, of course," Arthur answered.

"R-right…" Alfred said with a shaky laugh.

Arthur walked over to Germany and undid the ropes. The kidnapped nation quickly scurried off a few feet away from the car and England. "Why am I here?!" he demanded of England.

Arthur then began to explain the situation. He spoke of how he told Alfred he would prove unicorns were real. According to legend, only virgin maidens could summon unicorns. If the maiden sat innocently in a meadow, a unicorn would come and place it's head on the her lap. Afterwards, others could proceed to capture the unicorn.

Germany questioned why they hadn't gotten an actual woman to do the job, but England merely said something about how he figured it wouldn't matter if a virgin man tried to summon a unicorn as well. Ludwig, albeit thinking England was insane and that America was just as much of a victim as he was, decided to go along with the plan. He walked into the middle of the clearing and hesitantly sat down and placed his head in one of his hands. Arthur got back in the car with Alfred and took out a pair of binoculars.

America looked over at the other nation and asked, "N-now what?"

"Now we wait," England said simply as he peered through his binoculars and began to stare at Germany.

Two hours had passed and there was still no sign of a unicorn. Germany looked ready to kill and America was fast asleep. England, however, was wide awake and still searching while looking through the eyepiece with the same vigor as when he started. America was snoring now and it was grating on his nerves. England was just about to shove the young nation's shoulder when he saw movement in the bushes nearby.

"America, wake up, you git!" he whispered urgently while nudging the other nation awake.

"Huh, wha-" Alfred began, grogginess evident in his voice.

"Shh!" England responded, placing a finger over his lips. He looked back through the binoculars and sure enough, a light pink unicorn was making its way towards Germany. England was getting extremely excited while looking at the unicorn approaching the stoic, military man who was apparently the perfect choice for fair, virgin maiden. Germany, on the other hand, was looking at the unicorn like it was the plague. Fear was evident in his eyes as the unicorn briskly galloped over and placed her head on Ludwig's legs. Germany was visibly shaking now.

America looked at the scene before him and asked, "Why does Germany look so scared?"

Arthur turned towards Alfred and shouted, "What?! Can't you see the unicorn! It's right there!" England proceeded to point in Ludwig's direction.

"N-no, I don't see anything-"

"How can you not see it?! It's pink and cute and lovable and it's right in front of you!"

America tried looking again, but to no avail.

* * *

They were back on the road for the millionth time that day. Germany had been shaking in the backseat as they drove him back to his house, muttering things like "crazy" and "unicorns" and "_so_ pink"…

Ever since they dropped Ludwig off, there was complete silence in the car. Alfred was scared stiff being next to England now. He was truly considering adding "nutcase" as one of the personalities he tended to classify Arthur with.

America gulped to himself. "Where a-are we going now, Arthur?" he asked, praying that Arthur was just going to let him go home.

"Ireland," England answered quickly.

America didn't question the older nation this time. He knew he'd find out the answer to why they were headed there soon enough…

A few hours later, Arthur parked his car outside yet another house. Alfred wasn't sure he wanted to know where he was anymore. This entire day (or perhaps it had been even longer than a full day, seeing as how Alfred hadn't been keeping track of time zones) had been completely tiring and he just wanted to go home…

England got out of the car and walked towards the door. America hoped he wasn't about to kidnap someone again. However, Arthur knocked this time and was greeted by a red-haired man, who said, "Top o' the mornin' to ye, lassie!"

Oh. So they were in Ireland. What a stereotypical person _that_ guy was…

Arthur began to babble on with the man until Ireland pointed out a small clearing a few yards away from his house. England walked towards the area while motioning for America to get out of the car.

Alfred, once he caught up with England, asked, "So why are we here, Iggy?"

Arthur rubbed his forehead in annoyance at the nickname. "We are here because Ireland has many clover patches. We're going to look for a four-leaf clover because it takes away a fairy's invisibility."

"What?!" America practically screamed in the older nation's face. He looked to his feet and then the rest of the clearing. It was an entire field filled with nothing but clovers. "You mean we have to look through this entire _field_ for a four-leaf clover?"

England, however, was already on his knees and bent over the ground, searching for the rare plant. Alfred sighed and got down on the ground as well.

It took about another three hours of crawling and searching through the fields until Arthur finally found a four-leaf clover. "Alfred, found one!" he shouted joyfully while holding the rare gem in the air for the young nation to see. America crawled over to where England sat and took the clover in his hand. "Now Alfred, I want you to look directly at Ms. Twinkle and Rudolf over there," he said while pointing in the other direction. The clover should disable Ms. Twinkle's invisibility, and if it could do that, why couldn't it do the same for Rudolf even though he was an elf?

America squinted and held on to his clover tightly. He tried picturing a fairy floating in the air, but in actuality, he saw nothing. Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.

He merely shook his head. England's expression dropped at that. "N-no?"

Arthur felt the stiff muscles give out underneath him as he let himself drop into the field of clovers. He closed his eyes and muttered "why" to himself over and over again while shaking his head back and forth.

America felt nothing but guilt at this point. This entire adventure had been all for nothing. No matter what he did or where he went, Alfred was just unable to see these fairytale creatures that England so faithfully believed in. His muscles began to ache as well, and he found himself plopping down in the clover field next to England.

The trip back to Arthur's house was filled with silence. When they finally arrived, America decided it was best to stay the night since it was around 1 am. He immediately went for the kitchen to grab himself a cool glass of milk before he headed upstairs to the guestroom.

England, however, had decided to go up to his room as soon as he entered his house. He was tired, sore, and disheartened at the days' events. He tried everything he knew. There was no way he could think of anything else that would convince the boy that his friends were real.

He plopped himself down on his bed and placed his hands behind his head. Clarice nudged his face, trying to cheer the dejected man up. "It's no use, Clarice…" he said. "I just don't understand why he can't see you…" He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I remember he used to be able to see you all when he was a boy…but, it seems he has forgotten those days…" England sighed to himself as he let the memory of America's colonial days seep back to him.

* * *

_1698_

_England had just arrived back at America's house for the fifth time that year. His visits were growing less and less frequent, but each time Arthur came home, Alfred felt an even greater joy surge through his little body. England said he would stay for a whole month, maybe even two. His smile got wider as he felt himself being lifted off the floor and into the air, England's laughter joining his own. _

"_Alfred, would you like to meet my friends?" he asked the little boy in his arms. _

"_Friends?" America asked innocently, wide-eyes peering up at his mother country. _

_England merely set the boy down and took his hand while leading him out the door. Once they were by the edge of the forest, Arthur let out a whistle after he had placed two fingers in his mouth. America looked over to the bushes and let out a gasp when he saw them begin to move. Suddenly, a light blue unicorn, a fairy with pink hair, a small elf, and many other creatures came out from behind the plants. America ran to them like he did all the creatures of his land and greeted them whole-heartedly. _

"_Hi!" he shouted as he waved towards them. "My name is Alfred. What's yours?"_

_England smiled to himself as he watched Alfred play with his old friends. They simply adored the small boy. America's giggles filled the air as Clarice nudged his little head. However, Alfred seemed particularly fond of a gnome named Charles. America played with him until the sun set over the hills, his smile never going away even when Arthur put him to bed. _

_As he softly kissed the small boy's forehead, England wished he'd never forget this moment in time…_

* * *

And indeed, he never did. Arthur sighed to himself again before speaking to his friends once more. However, he didn't notice another presence at the door of his room.

America had gotten himself his glass of milk and was making his way to guestroom when he heard Arthur sigh. He leaned his ear against the door and listened in.

"Sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you guys…" he heard England say. "You're the only true friends I have…Alliances with other nations don't count. No, you don't need to be friends with another nation to have an alliance, Ms. Twinkle…" Alfred heard another sigh. "You were also the only friends I had after that bloody Revolutionary War…" America's eyes widened at this statement. "I honestly don't know what would have happened to me if it hadn't been for all of you…As a matter of fact, it was after that war that America stopped being able to see you guys…" Now Alfred was truly shocked. He didn't remember seeing any creatures when he was little…did he?

He heard a small shuffle in the room and decided to open the door a crack and peer in. The lights were off and England looked like he was getting ready for bed. However, what Alfred saw practically caused him to fly out of his own skin. The sheets around England were _moving_. By themselves! A corner was lifted into the air as Arthur shuffled underneath them. A pillow looked as if it was being fluffed and the blanket looked as if it was tucking England in.

America quickly flew back downstairs and into the kitchen. He placed a hand over his chest and listened to the heartbeat racing in his ears…_What…what _was_ that?_ Alfred asked himself.

After letting his heart calm and the adrenaline fade, he sat down at the kitchen table, still clutching his glass of milk. Instead of drinking it, however, he merely stared at it. He let his mind race as he tried to piece everything he saw together.

The conclusion he came up with shocked him even more. These creatures, whatever they were, were completely and utterly _real_.

It was a statement America thought he'd never believe. And he was still trying to convince himself otherwise. Besides, if they were real, how come he couldn't see them, even _with_ magical four-leaf clovers? Germany could obviously see the unicorn, and he even remembered France saying something about seeing creatures when you visit the country of England. But America could never see anything. He always saw air. Just the air in front of him. Why?

And then the answer finally hit him_. It was after that war that America stopped being able to see you guys…_ America recalled England saying. _After the war…after I broke ties with England forever…I must not be able to see anything because of that, because I no longer wanted any part under England…I guess…I guess when I declared independence, I became unable to see fairies anymore…_

America saddened at the thought. So the real reason he couldn't see these creatures was because he broke away from his mother country…broke away from England, broke away from _Arthur_. He didn't enjoy recalling the Revolutionary War, seeing Arthur crying like that before him…It only showed how truly small, how truly hurt England was at the time.

And these creatures…whatever, no, _whoever_ they were…they were the only friends England had at the time. They were the only ones there to comfort him after Alfred left. Another wave of guilt passed over America. Honestly, this day was turning out to be such an emotional rollercoaster.

Alfred closed his eyes and breathed. He tried to think of anything that might trigger some memory of these creatures from when he was little. He honestly couldn't remember much…America recalled the bunnies and oxen he used to play with, but no fairies or unicorns or elves or gnomes or…Wait.

Gnomes?

* * *

Arthur awoke the next morning with a bad headache. He slowly made his way downstairs, expecting to smell coffee brewing in the kitchen. However, when he entered, he saw that there was no Alfred to be found.

He looked around and only saw a small note left on his kitchen table. Curious, he picked it up and began to read.

_Dear Iggy, _

_Sorry about the other day. I know you were trying really hard to get me to see your friends. But England, I honestly can't see them, and I don't think I ever will. _

_But…I just want you to know that…_

_I believe you. _

_I believe they're there. I saw them tuck you in last night because I saw the sheets move. And yet, I still couldn't see what they looked like._

_But hey, I guess that proves me wrong, and I'm never wrong, so you should be proud, Iggy! :)_

_Love,_

_Alfred_

England's hands shook as he read the letter (although he did make a small scoff at the smiley face). Arthur just couldn't believe…couldn't believe that _Alfred_ believed. All his life, he had been told he was a maniac, and here was America finally admitting that _he_ was wrong and that _England_ was right.

The sincerity of the note was too much for Arthur to bear as well. England felt his eyes begin to water (after the utter stress of the day before, of course), but he batted them back as he blinked rapidly. He looked back down at the note and noticed that Alfred had written just a little more. It read:

_PS Tell Charles I said hi._

* * *

A/N: I've got warm fuzzies after writing that ^^

Btw, I wasn't sure whether to make Ireland the Northern Ireland or the Republic of Ireland, so I'll just let you all decide who you want it to be. I know we haven't seen Ireland (or perhaps there are two Irelands) in the manga strips yet, but I just had to put him in the story xD (Jackidy, who writes kinds reviews for me, has a story called Nothing to Prove dealing with England and his brothers, including both Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, so you should check that out if you're interested :3)

Once again, I sincerely apologize for being so late for this update. I felt so guilty

Update: Captain Kirkland (ohohoho, I think you know what this means…xD I've been craving to write about Pirate England for a while, so I'm really happy now :D)

* * *


	11. Captain Kirkland, Part 1

**A/N:** Once again, I updated really late and I'm really sorry. I was actually on vacation this time, in Pennsylvania and Virginia. I've only been able to go on my laptop twice, and only for an hour or two to respond to messages. I just arrived back in New York, so updates should be quicker

Btw, I think I'll have to update on a weekly basis from now on, if that's ok (even though this update took much longer than a week, and for that I sincerely apologize again)

More importantly, as you can see, Pirate!England will be divided into parts (2 parts, to be exact). This chapter will explain _how_ Arthur's life as a pirate was while the next chapter will be Alfred's view on this personality (it appears that I tend to make my favorite personalities multi-chaptered…hm…)

As a forewarning, this chapter is going to be more serious and less comedic (since I began this fic in order to improve my writing in all areas of fanfiction). It's definitely a different style that before, that's for sure. However, part II is going to be all about the giggles (b/c comedy is my forte and I can't stand _not _to write it xD)

I hope you enjoy this latest installment of Arthur's Phases~

* * *

Chapter 11: **Captain Kirkland, Part 1**

Arthur hadn't meant for it to go this far. Not once in his life did he think _this_ is what he would become. After all, he was a respectable man, the personification of the country of Great Britain! He shouldn't be here, drunk, singing in a bar to songs of which he knew neither the lyrics nor the tune, socializing with a crowd of criminals and nobodies.

But of course, such was a pirate's life. Yes, Arthur Kirkland, _England_, was a pirate. A low-down, plundering, thieving criminal. His superiors hadn't the slightest clue of how he spent his days, either. However, not only was Arthur suffering from the weight of secrecy, but because he _enjoyed_ what he did. It wasn't as if he were captured and _forced_ to plunder his very own merchant ships nowadays (although he _was_ forced to at first). He did it out of his own volition.

Arthur slumped against the bar's table with his head in his arms. His head was spinning, yet the music continued to pound in his ears, causing them to ring in distress. As he attempted soothe his headache, he began to recall how he had gotten into this position in the first place…

* * *

Like every other honorable, working man, Arthur had been stressed out by the sheer amount of work he had been given. The Spanish Armada was controlling the seas with such force and vigor, causing his people to suffer. How Spain ever gained such power was beyond England's knowledge. Arthur's seas were also filled with pirates, attacking his merchant ships and making it nearly impossible for him to trade with other nations. Overall, England was in a slump.

But his dear Queen Elizabeth I wouldn't have it. She wanted safe voyages for her merchant ships, and demanded tighter security on the high seas. England knew in the back of his head it just wasn't that simple. These pirates were brutal. They never came to kill the men aboard, but came up with elaborate tactics to distract the crew in order to steal the goods below deck. And their numbers, oh their _numbers_, continued to increase! Both sides made up of his own men, pitting themselves against each other, one side prospering, and the other, suffering. England felt as if his stomach was constantly churning with the battles that ravaged his seas. As much as he hated to admit it, these pirates were as much a part of him as his innocent merchants. But he had morals, and these morals told him it was the merchants he had to side with, and the pirates he had to rid himself of.

Arthur was now aboard a merchant ship with other naval vessels flanked on both sides, a precautionary measure. His Queen demanded he sail on this ship, to personally see to it that the vessel reached its intended destination. England could never deny his Queen, and so he grasped the railing on the side of the ship and watched on as the sea churned out before him.

England loved his seas. They were beautiful to gaze at and the feel of the wind, saturated with the salty brine below, on his face sent his nerves into a tizzy. He closed his eyes and breathed in the humid air. It smelled nothing like the palaces he usually had to occupy, nor did it smell like the rainy, dreary environment outside the palace walls. No. The seas smelled of freedom, of escape, of _power_, something England had lacked these days.

Two weeks were spent on the ship before _it_ happened, the incident that changed Arthur. Changed his attitude. Changed his perspective. Changed his personality, behavior, character…changed his _life_. In the modern era, France always went on during World Summit meetings about how England was really just all punk inside. Well, this is where it stems from.

In the middle of the afternoon, Arthur had decided to take a quick nap. The days aboard the ship had become dull. The crew was as boring as hell, the ship creaked with every small gust of wind, and the sea was no longer giving him the same feeling of ecstasy when he had first boarded the vessel. The quarters below deck were cramped and crawling with rats. Some crew members were even becoming ill under such conditions.

Arthur laid his head back on the flat pillow as his eyes gazed out the small port window by the cot. Another ship was sailing close by, the British flag flowing in the wind as it followed. Obviously another security ship, an ally, sent by the Queen. England allowed his eyes to close as sleep overcame him. However, this rest would not last long.

Before Arthur knew what happened, he felt the ship shake and heard a thundering crash above him. He scrambled out of bed and ran up the stairs to the deck, only to see that extra security ship was attacking them! _Then…then it wasn't a security ship at all…_

As Arthur thought this, the attacking men hoisted up a new flag, one with a skull and crossbones, the Jolly Roger. So _this_ was a pirate ship.

Arthur immediately began shouting orders for the crew to calm down. The pirates had begun to swing from ropes onto the merchant vessel and screamed at the top of their lungs. England had never seen such barbarism in his life. He quickly pulled out his sword, ready to defend this simple merchant ship with his life if he had to. One man that had landed on board pulled out a cutlass and clashed it against England's sword.

Arthur stumbled back, but regained himself in time to defend against another swipe of the man's blade. As his arms struggled with the force being pushed into him, his eyes diverted to what surrounded him. His crew was being rounded up and tied to the mast, while the pirates scrambled below deck for the goods beneath. "N-no!" Arthur shouted as he saw the pirates run to their vessel with their stolen items. He pushed the man off him and attempted to stop the men making way with the goods. But before Arthur could even swing his sword again, a hard blow to the head with the butt of a pistol from behind had knocked him out cold.

When Arthur awoke, he was shivering. He felt the similar creaks of a rocking ship beneath him. Ropes were tied around his body and his body was propped up against something hard and wooden…the mast, no doubt. England didn't allow his eyes to open. Rather, he intended to listen to what was going on first. The voices seemed far away, but Arthur was able to understand a few small fragments of the conversation.

"'Tis England, I tell ye! Not jus' some random crewmember! Think o' how much the Queen would pay to get her precious country back!"

"No! We can't just put a bounty on his head. As soon as we collect our money, the Queen'll send for our capture and hang us!"

"I think we oughtta throw'm overboard. Let'm suffer a bit."

At this, England's breath hitched in his throat. Apparently, that was just the sign the pirates needed to know that Arthur was now awake. He opened his eyes as he felt his body being tugged up. He was still tied to the mast, but he was standing now, and his back and legs ached after being knocked out for so long. Just how long _had_ he been out, anyway?

A man with a fierce face and a dark brown beard came into view. Arthur could see the faint trace of a scar on his cheek when the man got closer. He wore a pirate hat with the Jolly Roger symbol painted on it. His clothes were dignified, as if he were of nobility. His jacket was red and the fabric sewn by golden thread. And yet, his appearance, no matter how royal or dignified he looked, was menacing.

"Now look a' who jus' woke up!" he cackled as he eyed Arthur. England felt his own face stiffen. "Bet yer wonderin' jus' why yer here, ain't ya?"

Arthur tried to speak. "I-I am Arthur Kirkland, second in command to Queen Elizabeth I, a-and I demand to know just what is going on here…" He felt his hands shake even though parts of his arms were numb from the constraint of the ropes.

At this, the man laughed. "Arthur Kirkland, is it? Well, Mr. Kirkland, you may call me Captain Broderick. This is my ship, The Wanderer. And behind me be my crew," he said while gesturing towards the men behind him. They were all grubby-looking, unlike their well-dressed captain. They looked like a dangerous lot, anger and excitement billowing in their eyes. Arthur felt his breathing quicken.

"Y-you are to release me a-at once, or m-my Queen will have to-"

"Have t' what? I don't think ya understand yer position here. Yer either my prisoner or me crewmember. Now, which would ye rather be?"

Arthur didn't want to be imprisoned by such men. If the conditions aboard the merchant ship were bad, just think of how they would be aboard a _pirate_ ship. Before giving himself the chance to think, England blurted out, "C-crewmember". At this, Captain Broderick laughed once more.

"Then ya could start by swappin' the deck!" he shouted. Arthur felt the ropes around him being untied while the Captain threw a mop and bucket of water in his direction. Both landed on the floor with a clang. The crew left the deck with Arthur standing in the middle. His hands were still shaking as the realization of his condition soon began to sink in. Picking up the mop, he began to clean the deck's surface as the sun set over the horizon of his beautiful sea…

As the days passed, Arthur never questioned the whereabouts of his former crew. The merchant vessel and its members seemed so far away now. He rarely had time for thinking anyway. A new order was always barked at him every hour of the day. England's lids drooped and his body became weary. He worked up on the deck's surface for hours with the sun blazing down on him. His clothes were dirtied, but it hardly mattered. He had decided long ago to do away with his shirt since it was so bloody hot on the ship.

As he tightened the ropes on the mast, the latest command he had been given, he felt his stomach gurgle. He hadn't had much to eat for the past few days. They gave him bits of fruit gathered from their travels, along with a couple of scraps of fish. None of this satisfied him. There was barely any fresh water on board as well. All he had drunken was grog, which was just watered-down rum that tasted terrible. However, he couldn't deny his parched throat what it needed, so he drank obediently.

It appeared that they weren't about to turn him in now that he was a "crewmember". However, Arthur very much doubted his idea. He knew his Queen would pay anything at all to get him back. He was sure the pirates were well aware of this too.

Arthur hadn't been himself the whole while he was on The Wanderer. It was as if his mind had numbed and he was just an empty shell, obeying orders without question. His personality had drained away. His thoughts were void of opinions now.

As the day wore on, he was ordered to work below deck in the kitchens. The crewmembers of The Wanderer were going to celebrate their latest plunder upon another merchant ship. It contained a lot of food and supplies meant for the colonies of the New World. Arthur slaved over the meal. Soon, he set the table and waited for everyone to sit down.

Captain Broderick was the first to take a bite out of the chicken. As soon as he put it in his mouth, he spit it out. "Good God, man, are ya tryin' ter poison me?!"

Arthur's old self immediately seeped in for the first time in many days. He shouted, "If you don't bloody like it, you don't have to eat it!"

Another crewmember shot in, "It tastes like burnt leather!" followed by someone else's shout of, "Since when did you ever eat burnt leather?!"

A chaotic atmosphere surrounded the cramped dining room until the Captain shouted for everyone to be quiet. "Quiet, ya scoundrels! It don't matter if the food ain't edible! We be celebratin' fer another reason tonight!" At this, the entire crew lapsed into silence.

Captain Broderick pulled Arthur towards him to stand at the front of the long table. "This be Arthur Kirkland, also known as England. We're either gonna put him up fer sale, _or_…" he stressed, "we can make'm an official part of our crew. If he does become an official crewmember, he becomes our fellow brother." Arthur looked towards the faces of the men seated at the table. Some looked angry while others looked approving of the idea. Arthur wasn't sure _what_ to think at this point.

"Now then, if he be wantin' to be a part of our crew, then we oughtta make'm swear in, don'tcha think?" An all around "Ay, Captain!" was shouted from every corner of the room.

"Alright then!" Captain Broderick swung Arthur around to face him. He held a Bible in his hand and told Arthur to place his own hand on it. He obeyed. "Arthur Kirkland, do ye swear under the Articles of Agreement to listen t' everything I say?" England uttered a small "yes". This was something he could agree to.

"And will ye swear to help us plunder other vessels at the sake of yer name?"

This was a bit harder. Arthur swallowed before allowing another small "…yes" to escape this throat.

"And will ye be willin' to venture on land and gather information about new ships to plunder because o' yer authority as England?"

This would be the hardest of all.

"…y-yes…"

"Then by the power vested in me and my crew, I now pronounce you an official member o' The Wanderer!"

Cheers surrounded the room as the men held glasses of grog towards one another. The atmosphere was gay and full of merriment. The only one who didn't partake in the celebration was Arthur, who felt as if his stomach was being twisted into knots.

Arthur's first raid had been one of the scariest moments in his life, and also one of the best. After landing at port, the crew had been released to drink, find women, but most importantly, to gather information about new merchant vessels. The barkeeps usually knew when ships were about to set sail, but so far, the goods on board were never really of too much interest to Captain Broderick. However, he was informed that one merchant ship carrying guns and other weapons was to set sail later that afternoon. This was the ship they attacked.

England had been told to help the crewmembers carry the goods located below deck and help deliver them to the pirate ship. Broderick gave him a cutlass to scare the other crewmembers. Captain Broderick considered himself noble, for he never killed, only frightened. It hardly mattered to Arthur, who felt his hands shaking for the thousandth time.

The strategizing was elaborate. Captain Broderick concerned himself with every detail. How many crewmembers were there? How many goods were on board? (he observed how far the ship sunk into the sea to determine this piece of information) Did the crew have weapons themselves? Were there cannons? What were the conditions of the sea like? Was the wind favorable to the merchant ship or to The Wanderer? All of these small details were of the utmost importance to the captain, and he thought them all through as he stalked the merchant ship on the sea.

Eventually, a crewmember raised the Jolly Roger and the attack began. Arthur quickly pulled out his blade and grabbed a rope. He swung towards the other ship and landed on the deck a bit shakily. His heart pounded in his ears as he ran to the door that led to below the deck. He heard screams and shouts coming from all directions but paid no attention to it. He was busy hacking away at the wooden door. With one final swing, he managed to pry the door off its hinges. "It's open!" he shouted. Soon, the rest of the crew clambered towards the door. Everyone grabbed as much as they could carry.

When the ship was emptied, Arthur attempted to run back to The Wanderer. However, he was stopped in his tracks by a burly man with a sword in his hand. Arthur immediately pulled out his cutlass and took a swing at the man before him. Arthur's movements were quick and sure. The burly man stumbled about the deck as he tried defending himself against Arthur's blows. As soon as they both reached the edge, England grabbed onto a nearby rope and swung himself aboard The Wanderer.

The crew was cheering as Captain Broderick steered the ship away from the merchant vessel. Arthur felt the adrenaline continue to rush through his veins, making his heart beat thunderously and quickly. His breathing was quick with everything that he had just done. His legs buckled underneath him and he sunk to the floor. It had all happened so fast, it was almost a blur.

For the first time in many weeks, Arthur smiled.

The plunder had been an absolute _thrill_. His eyes were wide with excitement now as he looked out towards the sky before him. The shouting, the racing, the exhilaration of it all! The sea had gotten its beautiful blue color back, the sun was shining in the most glorious way, and Arthur had never felt freer in his entire life. Sword battles on land were _nothing_ compared to those faced at sea. It felt dangerous, devious, and completely electrifying.

Another celebration took place below the deck, and Arthur drank his grog happily as he conjoined in the merriment. Arthur felt triumphant in what he had done. He received compliments by some of the other crewmembers for facing off against the burly man. He received the compliments with about as much dignity as he could muster, which wasn't a lot at the moment. He was too enthralled in the moment to remember what manners were. His old life as a member of nobility was nowhere near his mind right now.

"Quiet, ya scoundrels!" Captain Broderick shouted at the head of the table. Everyone quieted down at the sound of his voice. "I'd like t' propose a toast to our newest member, England!" The crew shouted words of praise in response, causing Arthur's smile to grow wider. People clapped his back and he clapped them back, feeling an almost brotherly bond with these people he barely knew. Not that it mattered much. They _were_ his citizens after all, so he had to feel some sort of familiarity anyway.

When the festivities died down, the crewmembers crawled back into their barracks. England was one of the last to leave. However, before he could walk through the door leading into the crew's quarters, he heard a gruff, "Arthur", behind him. He turned around and saw Captain Broderick there, still sitting at the table. Arthur walked slowly towards his captain and took a seat. He wasn't used to being so obedient to others. However, he politely watched Broderick and waited for him to speak.

"Ya want t' know why I let'cha on this crew?" Arthur only gave him a questioning look.

"I…I haven't really thought about it, Captain," he responded warily. Was the Captain going to try to sell him back to the Queen anyway? Would Arthur have to give up this new life he had found amongst the seas?

"It's because I wanted ya to know what it's really like to be a pirate," he said quietly. Arthur was taken aback at this response, but said nothing in return.

"Yer England, and yet ya never concern yerself with yer common folk. Ya always got yer head wrapped up in what the nobles be wantin' and never what anyone else be needin'." Arthur continued to listen.

"Ya want t' know why I became a pirate? Well, it weren't because I wanted to! I used t' be a random seaman on some random ship. The quarters were cramped and the food was terrible. Disease was everywhere, and I got paid barely anything. I had a kid o' me own, and he was starvin'. I became a pirate to make enough fer him to run off with and work somewhere else. Fer him to have a better life than I…Eventually, however, I let the riches get to me. Now I plunder fer fun, for wealth…"

Arthur stared at Captain Broderick. He wasn't sure what to say now. England had never been good at communicating feelings, and he could only respond with a small "oh" before the captain continued.

"It be a brutal world out there. Everyone's gotta rank and there be nothin' you can do to change it. If yer a blacksmith, you'll always be a blacksmith 'til ya die. If yer a beggar, you'll be a beggar 'til ya die. That's how the world works. Ye can never be a noble, or a doctor, or anyone like that. Their voices are heard, but _our's_ ain't. We ain't never heard. But if ye be a pirate, everyone's the same. Everyone's equal. We all be brothers with each other and no man can say he's better'n you or anyone else. Everyone's voice is heard, even the ones who clean the deck or stay up in the crow's nest…."

Captain Broderick's expression looked faraway, lost in his memories of years at sea. At this moment, Arthur let the captain's words sink in. The life of a pirate was a democracy. Everyone had a voice…and these were the voices Arthur never heard during his meetings with the royal family or the nobles.

"Off t' bed with ye," the captain muttered before getting out of his seat and walking towards his very own quarters.

* * *

Arthur lifted his head from his arms. The bar was practically empty now, and he should have been getting back to The Wanderer. He had spent a whole week on land, gathering information. So far, the Queen still believed he was missing.

Arthur groaned. It was nearly dawn and he regretted having to leave his comfy stool. He really didn't feel like joining his brothers on the ship. It wasn't as if Arthur hated being a pirate. It was the fact that he loved it and felt he could understand these fellow men that he hated. He hated himself for so many reasons nowadays.

England got up and walked towards The Wanderer and climbed on board. He had a serious hangover from all the drinking, and apparently so did the rest of the crew. One man, by the name of Wet Willy (who had a terrible habit of licking his finger and sticking it in other people's ears) came up to him. "Had fun last night, Arthur?"

"Fuck off…" Arthur muttered to Willy. His head was _pounding_. The ship had set sail and the rocking of the boat was making it even worse. He groaned and began to walk towards the door that opened to the deck below, where he was needed to help count the inventory, a simple but arduous task. Before he could get himself below the deck, however, the sound of a cannon being fired was heard. Arthur quickly turned around to see a ship of British soldiers make their way towards The Wanderer. _Oh no…_ England thought to himself as he saw these men.

He made a dash for it. There was no way the nobles could see him like this! He was a bloody mess, his clothing reduced to loose rags and his hair as messy as straw. His breath smelled of alcohol and he was covered in injuries resulting from his many plunders with the crew.

The sound of feet hitting the deck roared in his ears as he tried to yank open the door. Before he could, he felt his shoulder being grabbed and a sword being pressed to his neck. "I'll kill you now, you dirty pirate!" the man shouted at him while moving his hand up to grip the back of his neck. Arthur could only manage to sputter out, "I-I'm E-england!" before the man could slice his throat. The man's eyes widened as he looked down at the grungy man in his grasp.

"A-arthur Kirkland?" he asked, unwilling to believe his own eyes. He let go of his country and stared. After undergoing the agonizing stare of this man, Arthur heard the man say, "to the Lady".

Arthur knelt before his Queen now. She was _furious_. She barked at him for leaving off with "pirate scum" and for scaring her half to death. He had attacked his own people, gotten drunk dishonorably, never made an effort to escape at all…She screamed that he would have been put to death if he weren't England. Her body was shaking before his figure. "Take him away," she demanded of the guards. Arthur was then dragged to his room and locked in.

England later learned that the crew he had been a part of was hanged. He witnessed the event of one of the hangings, for the Queen decided it would be best if it took place out his window. Arthur wasn't sure if anyone knew he was up there, but he could swear he saw Captain Broderick look into his eyes before the lever was pulled.

The incident broke Arthur. He usually never cried, not even in the face of his enemies. But now…it was different. He had lost something far greater than a few pirates. He had lost citizens, allies, _friends_. And he would continue to lose these people if this kept up. There had to be some way, some bloody way to get the Queen to see that pirates shouldn't be punished! They should be guided! He wanted her to know of the thrill of the high seas, the freedom of sailing, anything to get her to realize that he couldn't ignore the scars on his body that formed when he lost his own people.

But how could he justify attacking his own merchant ships? It was immoral and wrong. As much as he enjoyed life as a pirate, he couldn't ignore that they were criminals. Criminals who stole from England, no less. But what if they didn't need to steal from England? There were plenty of other merchant ships around!

At that, Arthur's eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet and rammed his hands against the door, demanding to see the Queen.

* * *

A privateer. That's what Arthur was now. He was a privateer, a hired pirate. He was now addressed as Captain Kirkland aboard his ship, which he promptly named Broderick. He wore the most dignified clothes he could muster, had a sword sheathed by his side, and a smile brighter than any he had let surface before.

He had both hands gripped on the steering wheel as he shouted, "Off to work, you bloody scoundrels!" to the rest of his crew. Everyone began working in quick succession, shouting "Ay, Captain!" in response.

Arthur felt the wind in his hair and smelt the salty brine in the air. Sailing his ship never got old. With it, he had laid hundreds of Spanish merchant ships to defeat. Everyone on board would get a share of the booty. Two thirds of the acquired treasures would go to the English government with the rest divided amongst the crew.

England loved the freedom among his men, the amicability of the atmosphere giving him a sense of belonging he hadn't had in the longest time. For weeks on end he would sail his ship and plunder merchant vessels, letting the ecstasy of the moment sink into his bones each time. Some days he would have to retreat back on land and see to it that his government was running smoothly. During those times, he wished nothing more than to head back to his beloved vessel and sail the seas, shouting orders and enjoying himself in an almost barbaric manner. While on his ship, he no longer needed to adhere to anyone's authority, and he felt so liberated, detached from land and at home with the sea.

Sometimes, the authorities would come by his vessel and attempt to arrest him and his crew. However, the fact that he was a privateer allowed him to present his Letter of Marque, given to him by the Queen, which told them he was allowed to partake in legal acts of piracy. This would only work with English authorities. To other countries, he was still nothing but a pirate.

But that didn't matter now. At least England could once again taste the freedom he had had aboard The Wanderer.

Of course, Spain was not happy with these pirates attacking his ships. He paced before his boss, trying to think of ways to defend his poor merchants. At the moment, Antonio had no idea the pirates attacking his vessels were hired by the English government. Many a time he had gone pleading to England to control the pirates, but Arthur always answered, "I really wish I could help, but they are a nuisance to us as well. So sorry to hear your sufferings." Spain would later grieve for his poor merchants who risked their lives to transport their goods.

Antonio's boss, however, only cared for the lost gold, and commanded Spain to sail aboard a merchant ship and defend it against the thieving pirates.

Captain Kirkland was currently below the deck in the dining hall with his crew. They drank good rum tonight, sang cliché songs, and enjoyed themselves to their hearts content. Tonight they would hit a big score. A merchant ship carrying tons of gold and silver was said to be headed back to Spain from the New World. It had triple the amount any Spanish armada ship had carried thus far, and that meant Arthur and his crew would earn quite a profit. It excited them all.

However, it was dark now. Night was never a good time to conduct a raid on a merchant ship. They wouldn't be able to see. So, Arthur and his crew spent the night however each member wanted and waited for morning to dawn.

Once the sun rose high into the sky, the Spanish vessel was spotted. The ship was called La Hermosa Rosa, and once Arthur confirmed that this was the ship they had been waiting for, they hoisted the British flag and began to go over the necessary details before the plunder.

Once the sun was right above their heads, Captain Kirkland told his crew to set sail towards the ship. He unsheathed his sword, prepared to battle anyone in the way of his treasure. He waited until they were just a few meters behind the Spanish vessel before commanding his crew to hoist the Jolly Roger into the air. Soon after, the rest of the crew readied the cannons. Arthur grabbed onto a nearby rope, ready to swing towards the ship at his signal.

"Three…two…one…charge!" he shouted wildly as he swung from one ship to another. He heard his cannons being fired and saw others swinging from their ropes towards the Spanish vessel as well.

However, this merchant ship was fully prepared for an attack. The sound of pistols shooting down his crewmembers was heard in every direction. Arthur ran across the deck, ready to slash the guns right out of their hands.

The fighting on the deck was hectic. Arthur swung his sword at what felt like hundreds of hands holding pistols. A bullet had grazed him in his fighting arm, but this was only one scar among many. He continued to shout orders to his crewmembers as he distracted the Spanish.

"England?!" Arthur heard someone shout from behind. He quickly turned around, and standing right there was none other than Spain, eyes wide with disbelief. _Crap_…Arthur thought to himself.

Antonio unsheathed his sword and ran towards England, while shouting at the same time. "Mentiroso! Liar! _You_ are a pirate as well!" He swung his blade in many directions, causing England to stumble a few steps back in order to properly defend himself. The blade almost grazed his cheek at one point.

"I had to do this, Spain!" he shouted back. "The Spanish Armada has taken claim to the sea! What about the English?!" He fought off another swing of Antonio's sword and began to take the offense.

"You have stolen from me! I need this gold for my people!" Spain screamed at England, now trying to defend _himself_ from the pirate captain before him.

England laughed as he fought. "_I stole?_ And just how did you _get_ this gold in the first place? I heard you've stolen it from the natives of the New World! I'm stealing stolen goods, there's a difference!" he claimed as he swung his blade at Spain's shoulder, leaving a nasty gash. Spain quickly dropped his own sword in order to bring his hand up to try and put pressure on the wound. Arthur, out of the corner of his eye, saw his crew making away with the booty. He planted his sword right into the floor before Antonio, who was now on the ground clutching the gash on his shoulder. "You are now my prisoner, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Any words you'd like to share?"

Spain looked down to his knees. England could swear he saw tears leak from his eyes when he said, "Just don't tell Romano…"

* * *

England was not the only country to hire privateers. Even his own former colony had taken to making use of them.

Alfred, although he never seemed to go on the ships himself, began to hire pirates to plunder British merchant ships during the American Revolution. Privateering in England, however, was dying down.

The Spanish Armada had been defeated a long time ago. There was no longer any need for Arthur to sail his ship and attack other nations. He had his own colonies to think about. He no longer had time to enjoy all the pleasures the sea brought him.

But there was still a pirate in England. There was still the same ferocity lying beneath his eyes and skin. He may have mellowed out, but there was still a raging pirate inside, who only needed a little provoking to get him started.

That provoking took place during the War of 1812.

England's ships were being attacked by America's privateers once more. This _enraged_ Arthur to no end. This bloody _land of freedom_ had copied his own form of freedom! One that he no longer had the privilege of indulging, he might add.

Arthur was currently stationed near Washington DC. He and his troops were resting for now. He heard his own naval ships in the background, trying to ward off America's own crews. He turned around to face the seas when he spotted familiar blond hair aboard one of the vessels.

Alfred.

It was Alfred…and he wasn't aboard a proper naval ship! His ship was sailing with the Jolly Roger symbol! America was sailing with privateers!

Alfred wore that same, stupid smile upon his face as he charged at one of the British ships. Arthur witnessed America swing from a rope to the other ship. He watched as America brandished a gun and began to fight his troops off. He witnessed America experiencing the same freedom he had all those years ago.

And it _burned_.

Arthur was seething. His expression was of daggers at the insufferable boy. _Land of the free_…rang through his ears like some sort of sick mantra. His head was spinning and he only wanted America to _suffer_ for thinking that he could lay claim to Arthur's one happiness in life. The pirate in England had sprung loose.

Arthur turned towards his troops. "Burn it down," he commanded.

"E-excuse me sir?" the general asked. Arthur grabbed the general roughly by the neck and said again through clenched teeth, "Burn. It. _Down_."

And as America's capitol burned, Arthur pretended not to hear the agonized screams reaching his ears as he turned away from the sea.

After that war, privateering had all but died down completely. A few privateers sprung up during the World Wars, but it was nothing in comparison to the olden days. And yet privateering never died within England. It had become an inseparable part of him now. There was no way he could ever experience the high he got when sailing as Captain Kirkland aboard the Broderick. He had to make up for it with the new utilities of the modern era, such as punk music, and his new ships, the ones that sailed through the sky.

England was always one to reminisce, and contemplating back to his days as a pirate were some of the darkest and some of the fondest memories he reflected on. He was lounging on a comfy armchair in his home now, sipping tea and relaxing. He turned his head towards the window and saw a clear, blue sky, and just for a moment, he pretended it was the sky he had seen aboard The Wanderer, that it was the sky he had seen about the Broderick…the sky that haunted his dreams at night and thrilled his mind during the day.

He closed his eyes, took another sip of his tea, and let his pirate days float away.

* * *

**A/N:** I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It was really hard to write, and I'm not sure if you'll enjoy it. Critiques would be wonderful. I'm not sure if I got Arthur down correctly or not, so please, any sort of feedback would be wonderful~ (oh, and just wondering, was the pirate lingo/accent ok? that was hard to write xD)

The War of 1812 was random, yes, but the idea that pirate Arthur burned down America's capitol wouldn't leave my brain (poor Alfred…the capitol is located at the heart, I believe…I really need to write a fic about the war of 1812 from alfred's perspective, since his heart must have _burned_)

The only part that isn't accurate is the origin of privateering. It was Henry III who began privateering, and the Letter of Marque started to get issued under Edward I. Queen Elizabeth I did not invent privateering, but she did utilize it to the best of her ability, more so than any other king or queen. Her privateers were also known as "sea dogs" xD

Update: Captain Kirkland, Final (I'll give you all a little spoiler. I intend for this chapter to be funny and it's set in the _modern_ era)


	12. Captain Kirkland, Final

**A/N:** Very late in updating once again. Just to note, no, I won't quit writing this story. It's just that these past two weeks I've been going to the lab every single day. The good news is that I finally obtained awesome results!! Seriously, I've been working on this experiment since October, so I'm very happy. Hopefully I'll be able to submit this to Intel :D

Since my results were analyzed, I was finally able to sit down and write this new chapter~ Honestly, this was **the** hardest chapter to write b/c my brain is slowly losing ideas for funny antics for England to get into. I literally had to force myself into my chair and scream "WRITE, DAMNIT" at myself o_O

In regards to the last chapter, I tried making his chapter lighter, but it's nothing compared to the crack that was in the chapter Mr. Unicorn ^^;

A humungous thanks to dppokegirl23 for contributing such an awesome idea for the entire chapter~

I'd also like to thank crimson-obsidian-rose for contributing some awesome antics to insert~ check out her works, guys :)

I hope you enjoy the latest installment of Arthur's Phases~

* * *

Chapter 11: **Captain Kirkland, Final**

Alfred was not going to lose this year! He had his house set up perfectly. There were jack-o-lanterns everywhere (made from pumpkins, not those unmanly turnips Arthur liked to use so much), fake spider webs hanging from the ceiling, and, of course, a super secret weapon that would make England scream with pure terror!

America loved Halloween.

Well, he obviously didn't enjoy getting scared by England every year. So far, the score was at Arthur-87 and Alfred-1 (and that was with Japan's help, too). _But this year, I'm going to scare England all by myself!_ Alfred thought to himself as he pocketed his secret weapon. He was pretty sure that England wouldn't come to his house on Halloween ever again after last year's incident, so he decided that the best strategy was to make sure his weapon this year was mobile. The decorations surrounding his house were just in case England _did_ decide to show up. However, he was pretty sure Weapon X (wasn't that just an awesome name?) would work perfectly!

Alfred wondered to himself why he wasn't declared a genius by now.

America was glad to have this weapon on him. It would be revenge for all those years of a being traumatized as a child. Alfred recalled those colonial days when he had been just a small boy. Arthur would dress up like a scary ghost and roam the house until America had to lock himself in his room and curl tightly under the covers.

Shaking his head of those bad thoughts, he quickly ran upstairs to wake Tony. Halloween was the alien's favorite holiday since he hardly ever got to leave the house. Halloween gave the alien the chance to trick-or-treat without fear. Besides, who didn't love candy?

"Time to get up, Tony!" Alfred shouted at the small alien, still slumbering peacefully in his capsule. He woke with a start and gave a small glare at the smiling American. "It's Halloween, Tony!" At hearing this news, the alien grew a big smile on his face as well and immediately ran from his capsule to the living room downstairs where the bag he would use to collect candy awaited him.

America ran down the stairs as well, but headed to the kitchen instead. He had to prepare sweets for the trick-or-treaters that would arrive that night. It was heartbreaking to have to part with his delicious candy (he loved his Hershey's chocolate to no end), but if it was for the good of his citizens, he would gladly do it!

After he placed the bowl of candy outside the door of his house, Alfred made his way to the car. He was going to go to England's house and attempt to scare him!

England, all the way across the Atlantic, couldn't wait for America to finally arrive. He had the most brilliant plan this year than any other. He had spent _months_ decorating just for this day. This year, Arthur had decided to transform the inside of his home into a pirate ship. That's right. England was dressed as a pirate for Halloween.

And it felt _wonderful_.

He had sewed together an almost exact replica of one of his old pirate outfits. It was made of red velvet laced with gold trim. He had made sure to break in his boots so that they would look ruddy, as if he had been out plundering ships like in the olden days. He had a fake cutlass attached at his hip and a black hat with the Jolly Roger symbol printed on it (he would have preferred a normal, leather hat, but those had all been sold out, so he had to settle for this cheap imitation). Arthur had even equipped himself with an eye patch for added affect. Knowing how much of an imbecile Alfred could be, the young nation might have thought England had actually lost his eye, which would just add to the pleasure of the moment.

England looked around his room completely pleased with himself. There were skeletons dressed as pirates hanging from the ceiling. There were warning signs everywhere to turn back, to not let the ghost pirates get you (Arthur knew adding the word "ghost" to those signs would surely scare America to no end). His living room had been converted to look like the deck of a ship, complete with a mast and flag.

Everything was _perfect_.

Arthur wanted to pat himself on the back. He had done an outstanding job this time around. He knew Alfred would be coming over this time. They switched every year, for the most part. Last year, England had showed up at America's house with a little surprise for him. However, he never actually got to _use_ that weapon of his, having been greeted by Russia who had been the one to answer his door (how Japan knew England's worst fears, he would never know).

Arthur waited for Alfred to show up for about an hour. He was too giddy with excitement to really sit still. It was already the early evening in England, while it was no doubt still the afternoon in America.

Feeling dejected for a fleeting moment, England decided he really needed a drink. He didn't feel like waiting, bored out of his mind, so surely just a bit of rum would clear his thoughts (he had actually made rum just for this occasion). Grabbing a glass and filling it to the top, he took a swig and sat gingerly in a nearby, wooden chair. That was more like it…

At around 6:00 pm, Alfred had arrived at Arthur's house. He was dressed as a cowboy for the millionth time, but it also meant he got to speak in his southern drawl, which he knew annoyed England to no end. He pounded his fist against the door, shouting "Iggy! Happy Halloween, Iggy! I know ya'll are in there!"

He waited for the older nation to open the door. However, all he could hear coming from inside the room was a lot of mumbling and cursing. He continued to wait for about another five minutes, but by that time, his patience had worn thin. Alfred was pretty strong, so all he had to do was kick the door so that it flew off its hinges and landed in the hallway before him. England was used to him doing that anyway.

America poked his head through the doorway. It didn't _look_ like England's entranceway. As a matter of fact, everything looked all dirty, like he hadn't cleaned in months. Alfred's eyes widened in fear. What if something bad had happened to Arthur? He shook his head. This was obviously just some plot of Arthur's to get him scared on Halloween. Well, he wasn't falling for it! Not at all!

Carefully, he took a step into England's home. There were skeletons everywhere, and signs that said "turn back now". Alfred was starting to shake. It wasn't that he was scared! Not at all! He was just, well, trying to imitate how England would react to Weapon X! Yeah, that was it.

He took a few more tentative steps inside until he came up to a sign that said, "Be warned…the center of the ship lies just ahead". What ship? There was something funny going on, but Alfred just didn't know what. Did "center of the ship" mean the center of England's house? His living room? Something tight clenching his chest, Alfred made his way into Arthur's living room. And then, everything went black…

* * *

Alfred awoke with a start. He looked around him in all directions but saw no one. This was certainly the same size as England's living room had been, but it looked like the deck of a ship rather than the familiar, stuffy room that Alfred had come to know. The walls were painted to look like the night sky while the floor beneath him was all wooden.

America was bewildered. Why was England's living room a ship? Had the man finally lost it?

"And what have we here? A stowaway?! Not on _my_ ship!"

Yep. Arthur lost it.

Alfred looked up to where he had heard the voice coming from only to see that Arthur was currently standing in what looked to be a crow's nest. He realized now that he was tied to the mast of the ship England had apparently installed in his living room. "A-arthur? You ok?" he asked warily. Something was definitely up.

Arthur swaggered a bit, but managed to grab a rope and swing himself down until he landed on the surface before America. Alfred could only see waist high if he looked straight ahead, so he was forced to look up at a very intimidating-looking Arthur.

His former guardian was sporting an eye patch. He had on a classic pirate hat and was wearing a red jacket with gold trim. But it wasn't the outfit that distracted Alfred. It was the look in Arthur's eyes (or one eye, rather). It was blotched with red, which could only mean one thing…

Arthur had been drinking.

This could mean two things. The first meant that Arthur was in drunk mode. The second meant that England really believed he was a pirate.

"You think yer sooo great, America! But lemme tell you, _I'm_ the man on this ship! A pirate! An' I'm not gonna let ya intimidate me!" Arthur managed to utter in his drunken slur. Honestly, those strings of sentences didn't even make any sense! The "pirate" was still swaggering back and forth on his feet, an empty bottle of alcohol in his hands.

"A-arthur, maybe you should sit down for a bit and-" Alfred tried to reason.

"You can't boss me around, you…you, um…wha's the bloody word? Um…you, uh…aw, fuck it!" he said while swinging his arm with the empty bottle in the air. He tilted his head to face his hand and stared at it for a minute before saying, "Hey! Why's the rum gone?" with a genuinely confused look on his face.

Alfred had had enough of this. He wiggled and shifted his body around until he managed to get the Swiss army knife from out of his back pocket (every hero carried one!). However, Arthur noticed his movements and shouted, "Oh, no! Nope!". He grabbed the knife out of America's hands and threw it across the room.

"Hey!" Alfred shouted at the drunk man. However, at that moment, Arthur was right behind America, cutting the ropes tying him to the mast. When Alfred broke free, he realized another set of ropes were tying his hands together.

"Now yer gonna have ter walk the plank!" England shouted in his direction, pointing with his empty bottle to a plank off the side of a rail. The plank was only a few feet off the ground and led straight into the kitchen. Was Alfred supposed to feel frightened?

"Um, England, is this really necessary?" he asked as he felt himself being pushed in that direction.

"Shut up, you…you wanker, you!" Arthur yelled at his back. Alfred managed to place both feet on the plank. He felt the wood wobble and crack underneath him. "Um, Arthur…?"

"Tha's Cap'n Kirkland to you!" he shouted as he pushed America right off the edge of the wooden board. Alfred fell face first into the tile floor of the kitchen. His nose was going to feel sore in the morning.

Arthur was going on a drunken rant in the living room, so Alfred took the opportunity to wiggle towards one of the drawers he knew held the knives. Once a knife was in his hands, he cut his wrists free of the rope. Rubbing the sores left by the rope, he walked over to the deck of the ship and faced England. As if speaking to a child, he said, "Come on, Arthur, let's get you to bed…"

"No! I don' wanna go ta bed!" Arthur said while trying to run from Alfred, who was slowly approaching him with arms outstretched.

"Arthur, be reasonable…"

"I'm not Arthur! I'm Cap'n Kirkland! I plunder n' sail n' drink n' do stuff!" he announced to his ceiling. He began to walk away from his living room and back into the hallway. Alfred was just about to capture him in his arms when Arthur flew out of the room, through the hallway, and out into the streets of England.

Oh…great…

Alfred sighed to himself. It appeared that Personality 9: Captain Kirkland had made his appearance. America didn't have too much of an opinion formed on this personality since it was so rare that it occurred. From what he could recall, Captain Kirkland was just a complete punk. He cursed, was always drunk, and wore constant sneers and smirks on his face. Captain Kirkland _hated_ Spain and was always talking about the high seas. Overall, he was a complete _jerk_. Symptoms of Captain Kirkland included drunkenness, cursing, plundering of treasure, a love for the seas, cockiness, and sometimes a happiness bordering on ecstasy.

America quickly ran to the door and tried to see where England had run off to. His eyes widened when he realized just how many children and adults were outside dressed in their Halloween costumes. It would be nearly impossible for him to find Arthur when there were so many other pirates trick-or-treating!

_Crap…_Alfred thought to himself as he made his way down the busy street. Suddenly, a shriek was heard in the opposite direction.

"Tha's right, gimme yer booty!" Arthur yelled at a small little girl in a pink fairy costume. Apparently, England had grabbed her bag of candy and was making a run for it, dashing across the street laughing his head off. "Mine! This is mine, you bloody Spanish merchants!"

Alfred started to run towards where the commotion was taking place. By the time he was standing next to the little girl, he heard another voice a few feet away.

"Oh, dios mio, is that you, Arthur?!" It sounded just like…Spain!

"You bloody Spanish git! Get back here with my gold!" Arthur said as he began to chase Spain down the street. What was Spain doing here anyway?

"Arthur, por favor, I do not have the Spanish armada anymore! You're not a pirate! Is that a real sword?!" he yelled before dodging a blow from whatever England was wielding. Alfred managed to catch up to the drunk pirate and grabbed his wrist, effectively stopping Arthur in his tracks.

"An' what do you want?" he asked while squinting in Alfred's direction. America knew he only had one chance. He had to use Weapon X or else Arthur might never be able to snap out of it.

"Arthur, I'm sorry I have to do this, but…"

And Alfred held up a picture of the most terrifying thing Arthur had ever witnessed. The shriek was heard all over, and soon enough, Arthur fainted.

* * *

It turns out the reason Spain was in England was because France had hinted he should visit Arthur on Halloween. Francis, apparently, had an inkling that England was going to dress as a pirate this year.

Weapon X, it turns out, was actually a naked picture of Francis. France had offered the picture to America before, claiming that it would seduce any man or woman America had an interest in. After Alfred got over his disgust, shock, and apprehension, he gladly accepted the picture, secretly plotting to use it against Arthur. He was glad he did, because now the score stood at Arthur-87 and Alfred-2. He was catching up!

Unfortunately, the drunkenness from the night before, coupled with the traumatizing photo, left England quite ill, and he was bedridden all throughout the day. Well, he wasn't _really_ sick. He was actually just completely humiliated. Quite frankly, America didn't see much of a difference.

Alfred snickered as he heard groans coming from the other side of the door. "Hey Arthur, you ever going to give that candy back to that girl?"

"Shut the bloody hell up, Alfred!"

Ok, not sick, but certainly humiliated.

* * *

**A/N:** It was dppokegirl23 who came up with the idea for pirate!england to take place during Halloween :)

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter~ Critiques on how to improve would be loved~ :)

Btw, I just reread the halloween comic…apparently, America _can_ see fairies and other mythical creatures on Halloween, but I felt it contradicted one of my earlier chapters, so I decided against including that detail ^^;

And lastly, if you feel the need to kill me after waiting such a long time for an update, you may :[

Update: Sick England (lol, oh, you'll see how I work this out as a personality xD a big thanks to ahou_incarnate for the idea! :D)


	13. Sick England

**A/N:** Well, school started! And by school, I mean both college and high school! (if you're confused, I'm a senior in high school _and_ I'm taking a few college classes on the campus my high school is located on). And, to top it all off, I'm still working in the lab, I run two clubs, and I'm the director of my school's tv show. Haha, my life is great xD

I didn't mean to rant, but as you can see, school eats away at my fanfiction writing time, which gets me really frustrated because I enjoy writing this fic so much

Anyway, I know you all waited for an update, so here it is~

* * *

**Chapter 13: Sick England**

Arthur was feeling absolutely terrible. The pressure in his head kept tightening until a groggy, heavy feeling overcame him. His nose was stuffed and he was forced to breathe openly through his mouth. It didn't help that his house was so dusty from lack of cleaning. He hadn't been feeling well for many days and just hadn't had the time to dust. His throat was sore as well, which really added to the overall pain his chest had whenever he coughed.

He was a mess.

Said mess was currently trying to sleep in his bed. It was well past noon and the sun gleaming through the window irritated England's headache further. He had tried to roll towards the other side of the bed, but he still felt the sun's rays upon his eyelids, which caused another aching pain to run through his already pulsing head. Arthur could barely even think at this point. Each time he tried to concentrate on something, his head throbbed right over his eyes, causing him to scrunch his face up in discomfort.

Arthur honestly had no idea how he had ended up with such a bad cold. His economy wasn't deteriorating (unlike America's), he hadn't had any major attacks on his land, his people were relatively healthy…but why did he have such a horrible cold?

It must've been from last week when he had been walking home in the rain. Honestly, he was used to the weather here (he was England, for goodness sake!) but then again, running about a mile through the rain to get to your house _wasn't_ the best idea he's ever had.

At least England was confident he wouldn't pass away. Nations such as himself couldn't die _that_ easily…unless it was swine flu, perhaps…Arthur prayed that he hadn't been struck down by that horrible bug going around.

In any case, Arthur was just trying to regain his health as soon as possible. It was hard when you lived alone, save for his fairy friends who kindly decided to take care of him (note that they only took care of _him_ and not the cleaning). He was given vitamins and tea, antibiotics, herbal remedies, and even a bit of black magic…but nothing seemed to be working.

England remained situated in his bed. He made sure to tell his friends to take a break. He just wanted to rest for now. Besides, their incessant chatter was really starting to do a number on his headache. He couldn't even imagine what would happen if something louder than their quiet babble were to occur…

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

"Ungh…." England groaned. His head was pounding in his ears now. His conscience was telling him to open the door, but instead he lifted the covers over his head. Getting the door would probably be the only way to stop the horrible racket the person was making. On the other hand, he might open the door and find something even _louder_ than the banging that was likely taking his front door off its hinges. He heard the door open before he had a chance to move. Ms. Twinkle must have opened it…

"Arthur?!" America shouted as he barreled into the house. He was paying England a surprise visit today since he was in town on a business trip. However, Alfred had a tiny suspicion that his boss might've known that he missed Arthur…not that he actually missed him or anything! His boss was just overly concerned, is all.

America shouted into the empty hallway once again before scratching his head. Arthur was nowhere in sight. Looking towards the staircase, he thought he heard a few sniffles coming up from England's room. He ran up the stairs and opened the door, only to find Arthur completely bedridden and looking just plain horrible!

"Arthur?! Hey, what's wrong with you?" he asked while running towards the man in bed. Arthur just groaned in response. America had a way of showing up at the most inconvenient times.

When England refused to speak, Alfred began to shake him vigorously. After about five seconds, Arthur was shouting at the boy to stop. "Q-quit sh-shaking me, Alfred!" he tried to scream, but his throat was so sore and his voice so hoarse that it came out sounding more like a whisper than anything else.

America stopped at this. "Alfred?" he asked England. It wasn't like the older man to actually say his name...it was normally "git face" or "idiot" or "moron" or "wanker". Alfred became more aware of just how sick Arthur really was.

"Uh, sorry..." Alfred said while scratching the back of his head. He smiled and closed his eyes at the man before him. "So, hey, you need anything? You shouldn't be lying in bed all day, old man, you've got to build up your strength!" he shouted enthusiastically. Another groan from England. America could be just a bit too loud, sometimes...

Arthur began to try to speak again. "Just...just leave, or you'll get it too..."

Ok, Arthur was _really_ sick now. Was that _concern?_

"Heroes don't just leave fair maidens to fend for themselves, Iggy!" he said while poking Arthur in the forehead. Only a small sniffle emitted from England. Alfred had just done three specific things to irritate Arthur, and he responded with only a sniffle! 'Fair maiden' and 'Iggy' and the poking would send Arthur over the edge had he been well. But now, Arthur was too weak to respond. This was the final assessment for finding out just how sick England was, and Alfred wasn't happy with the results.

"Wait here!" he said. "I'll go get stuff to make you feel better!" Alfred ran down the stairs and entered England's kitchen. He normally never approached the room (since it was where Arthur _cooked_), but he had to find stuff to help him. He searched through the cabinets to find most of the shelves completely empty. _Arthur must've been sick for a long time if he's started to run out of so much food_…he thought to himself. "I'll be right back!" he shouted towards England's room, heading out the door and to the pharmacy and supermarket.

* * *

Alfred came back to England's house with a bundle of bags in his hands. He didn't bring his car here, so he had to schlep everything from the market place by himself with his own two arms. He didn't mind, personally. It wasn't heavy at all. He once dragged England's car around for an hour all across town! But he felt as if a weariness had overtaken him recently. He wasn't as strong as he used to be due to his failing economy. He hoped he wasn't going to get sick as well...

America plopped everything down on the kitchen table. The sun was beginning to set, and he was pretty sure Arthur hadn't had a decent meal all day. Grabbing one of the bags, Alfred raced up the steps and towards England's room.

"Iggy, I got you some food~" he said in a sing-song voice. "It's your favorite!" But when he opened the door and peered inside, he saw Arthur was fast asleep. His eyes were scrunched together in a look of pain. He was breathing silently through a little gap in his mouth. His hair was a complete mess and tissues littered the sheets surrounding him. Arthur had his blanket wrapped around him like a cacoon, shivering as he tried to warm himself.

"Arthur?" he asked hesitantly. No response. Alfred silently walked across the room and leaned over England. It was as if the guy had gotten worse since he left. America hated having to see England this way.

Alfred gently wrapped his hands around Arthur's head, carefully placing his lips onto the man's forehead. _Definitely a high fever_… he thought to himself. He placed England's head back down onto the pillow, but heard a groan as soon as he did. "Arthur?!" he whispered urgently.

England wearily cracked one eye open. It was all he could manage with his complete lack of energy. "Alfred…?" he asked hesitantly. "That you?"

America brightened at that. "Yeah, it's me!" His voice was still that of a low whisper. "I got food for you!" he said proudly while showing off what he had bought.

It was a McDonald's hamburger.

"You l-little...stupid..." Arthur struggled to say. It was as if his illness prevented him from being angry or insulting others.

Alfred placed the burger on top of Arthur's head and laughed. England was trying his best to glare, remembering the first time Alfred had done this to him. He scolded America about it a week later. Well, whenever America was sick, he'd be sure to place a _scone_ on top of _his_ head…

America smiled and closed his eyes. "Aw, I'm only kidding, Iggy," he said while taking out what he had really gotten. He showed Arthur a can of chicken soup. "Want me to make you some?" he asked the older man. England gave a tiny nod in response, all he could manage at the moment.

About 20 minutes later, Alfred brought up the steaming soup to England along with his favorite earl grey tea and some medicine. He placed them carefully on the dresser beside Arthur's bed. He wrapped his arms around Arthur and lifted him up into a sitting position. England grabbed his forehead in response to the pain that had washed over his body when Alfred did so. His head was still throbbing like crazy.

Arthur looked to his left to find that Alfred's arm was still wrapped around him and that a spoonful of soup was being held to his face. His face immediately colored in response. "W-what are you…?" he managed to whisper.

"Feeding you like a hero should, of course!" Alfred said in response. Arthur tried to glare at the boy.

"J-just get Ms. Twinkle to do it," he said in hoarse whisper. Alfred looked as if he was about to pout.

"Fine, fine…" he said in defeat. He left the bowl of soup on the dresser and trudged out of the room. He felt a whizzing sensation whip by his head, and he could only conclude that it was Ms. Twinkle ready to help.

Alfred decided to sit down and watch some tv. After about an hour, he decided to go check up on England.

"Arthur?" he asked. The soup bowl was empty, the medicine was gone, and the tea completely finished. Alfred had added honey in the tea for England's throat, which sounded so hoarse that he could only conclude that it was because it was sore.

Arthur's head was resting on the pillow once again. Alfred walked over and placed his lips to his forehead again.

"W-what are you…?!"

"Checking to see if your fever's gone down, Iggy," he said with a smile. "And I'm glad to say that it has! You're not as hot as you were before."

Arthur blinked tiredly in response. Alfred then placed his hand on England's forehead and began to play with the little strands of hair around his face. "Man, Arthur, your hair's a mess…" he said to try to lighten the mood.

"D-don't touch me…" Arthur tried to say in a strong voice, but it came out weak and tired instead.

"You used to do this to me all the time whenever I was sick," Alfred said. It was true. When he had been a little colony, he would sometimes fall ill to the diseases that the English brought to his land. Whenever this would happen, England would always make him a bowl of warm soup and play with the little hairs on his forehead. It was a comforting gesture, and one that Alfred was sure never to forget.

Arthur relented to the hand on his forehead. "Such a dumb little colony…" England said to no one in particular. "Always running off and getting yourself sick…I was always so worried over you…" At this, Arthur closed his eyes and began to drift off to sleep.

Alfred laughed softly to himself. Arthur was always so delusional whenever he was sick. Personality 10: Sick England had currently taken over. Whenever Sick England appeared, Arthur himself was never around. He secluded himself in his house and relied on his fairy friends to help him (at first, Alfred had never believed this, but after some recent events, he figured it must've been true). The symptoms of Sick England included illness, a lack of insults, a tendency to spurt out what was on his mind, weariness, and an inability to be mean.

It was so different from Arthur's usual personality, and Alfred found that he enjoyed it when Arthur didn't insult him all the time. But then again, he also didn't enjoy Arthur being so sick. Once the insults began to come at him, he knew it would mean Arthur was better.

Alfred grabbed a blanket and headed down to England's living room. He would stay the night to make sure Arthur was ok. He _was_ a hero, after all…

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hope you enjoyed! I'm at school writing this right now xD I just really wanted to get it to you guys because I have some news!

This Saturday, I'm going to AnimeCon in NYC~ I'm going to be America. You'll know me because I'll be palling around with Canada (niki_uchiha) and Egypt (crimson-obsidian-rose), I'll have the biggest hamburger there, and I might just sing "guy love" with Canada xD (if you see me singing, tell me! I'll give u a free hamburger or something xD)

A bunch of people reviewed, but I still haven't replied, so I'm going to do that now!

Also, I'm really going to need help for figuring out personalities. I'm running out ^^; A lot of people gave me suggestions, and I take them all to heart, but I'm only going to do the ones I feel I'm capable of writing, ok? :)

The kiss to the forehead in this chapter wasn't yaoi (unless you really want it to be xD), ok? :3

A big shout out to ahou_incarnate for the idea for sick!england

Another big shout out to The Illustrious Tama for the idea of Jack Sparrow references in the last chapter :D

Update: Igiko (fem!England because I just found her character design not too long ago :D a thank you to Anomaly E for the idea :3)


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